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Autobiography 



^'7 OF 

^■^ y - 



Mrs. Fletcher. 



IVITII LETTERS AND OTHER FAMILY 
MEMORIALS. 



EDITED BY 

THE SURVIVOR OF HER FAMILY. 



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" We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love, 
And even as these are well and wisely fixed 
In dignity of being we ascend." 

The Excursion. 



BOSTON: 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1876. 




J] A 5-36 




Cambridge : 
Press of Johti Wilson <S^ Son. 




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PREFACE. 



In going through the first issue of my Mother's Auto- 
biography (which was intended solely for private circula- 
tion), with a view to its publication, I have found it 
extremely difficult to make. any change in the book without 
injury to its interest. I therefore let it go before the public 
with very little alteration, from the feeling that although 
unknown as a writer of books, the use she made of Life has 
an interest of its own which makes the publication of this 
volume less presumptuous than it would otherwise have 
been. 

I confess that it is a great pleasure to me to feel that one 
whose estimate of her own place in the world was always so 
modest, and who never anticipated the circulation of her 
Autobiography beyond the circle of her friends and de- 
scendants, should still excite so much interest in " the city 
of her affections " as to make the call for this publication 
one I was glad to yield to, and I have therefore left the 
book very much the same as it was, except with the addition 
of some letters from those among her friends not unknown 
to the world by their own words and works. 

M. R. 

Lanckigg, April, 1875. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 



Birth at Oxton, January, 1770 —Her mother's death — Her mother's friendship 
at school — Mrs. Brudenell's history — Happy childhood at Oxton — The 
Dawson family — Mrs. Brudenell's separation from her husband, 1776— Set- 
tles at Oxton — The mother-want supplied by Aunt Dawson — Cousins at 
Wighill Grange— Happy days there- The Hill family— Her aunt Mary 
Hill — Her love of hunting cured — Mr. Hill's letter to his son, 1767- Tra- 
ditions in the Hill family of Grace Hill and Will Hill at Marston Moor — Sir 
George Savile in 1779 — Traditions of her youthfrtl days — Sampler disclos- 
ures — Account of Oxton scenery and May-day festivities — First grief going 
to Manor School — Life there — Friendships formed there — Leaves school in 
summer, 1785 — Home life and happiness — Happy Highland tour — Ann 
Yearsley, E. Anthony, and Sarah Watson the good servant — Death of 
grandmother, 1787 — First lovers— First meeting with Mr. Fletcher, 1787 — 
First impressions deepened in 1788 — Rev. E. Cartwright's friendsliip — 
George Crabbe's visit with his wife — Recollections of John Wesley — Rev. 
J.Clowes — Second vi.sit to Perth — Visit to Ripon — Lord Grantley — Mr. 
Fletcher's letter in 1787 — Correspondence continued with Mr. Fletcher — 
Her father's strong opposition to the marriage — Her engagement — Extract 
from letters to Mr. Fletcher — Marriage, 16th July, 1791 — Sorrowful feel- 
ings—Reflections on that event r— Letter to Miss Cleaver— Mr. Cartwright's 
lines to E. D. in a blank leaf of Lavater's work Page 1 



PART IT. 

Early married life and happiness — Letter to Mrs. Laycoek — Edinburgh friend- 
ships formed — Society there- Thomas Muir — Her father's first visit in 
1792 — Great joy to her — Birth of eldest son in September, 1792 —Visit to Mr. 
Fletcher's mother in Bannoch, 1793 — Second visit from her father in 1794 — 
Birth of her daughter Elizabeth — State Trials — Home life and happiness — 
Benevolent interests — Her father's death in 1798 — First impression of Lyrical 
Ballads in 1798 — Edinburgh Society in 1802 — Edinburgh Review and Henry 
Brougham — First visit to London — Friendship formed with Joanna Bail- 
lie and Mrs. Barbauld — Summer at Dalnieny — T. Campbell's friendship 
formed — Her delight in her children —Mr. Brudenell's death — His wife's 
succession to her estate — Mournful visit to Hebburn — Mrs. Brudenell takes 
a house at the English Lakes — Summer there — 1806 — Great enjoyment at 
Belmont — Elizabeth Smith's death — Friend.ship with her mother — Mrs. 
Brudenell's death, 1806 — Her character — Leaves her estate to Mrs. Fletcher 



i CONTEXTS. 

— The summer of 180T spent tliere — Lord Tankerville's society —Visit to 
Bamboroiigh— ^'isit to Haggerstone Xiinueiy — Xu Alnwick Castle — Let- 
ter to Mrs. Stark from Hebburn— Vis-it in UOS to Liverpool — :Mr. Koscoe — 
Mr. Eathbone— Mr. Greg's Quarry Bank— 1810 — A country-house at 
FranktieUl on the Esk— Great enjoyment in walks there, and in society of 
friends and strangers — ISll — Places her eldest daughter at Mrs. Bar- 
bauld's — Letters from Mrs. Barbauld — Letter to her daughter G F. — To 
Mrs. Stark — From G. F. to her mother on Sarah Watson — Letters from 
]Miss Aikin to Mrs. F. — 1815 — From Mrs. Barbauld— From Mrs. Brunton 

— First summer at Park Hall — Manner of life there — Benefits of Tad- 
caster life — Letter from Allan Cunningham- Marriage of eldest daughter, 
1814 _ Winter of 1816-17 in Edinburgh — Illness of Grace in April — Death, 
16th April, 1817 — Return to Park Hall — Letters on that event . . Page 62 



PART III. 

Marriage of M. A. Fletcher to iliss Claver ing, December, 1817 —Visit to London 
with her daughters, 1819 — Mrs. Fry and Newgate — Robert Owen — William 
Godwin — Lord Erskine's visit to Edinburgh — Letters to daughter Mary, 
1820 —Summer at Callander — Farmer Buchanan — Letter to Mrs. Stark on 
Callander summer — Summer at Coniston, 1821 — Death of Mrs. Craik — 
Account of Allan Cunningham — Letter to him in 1822 — Visits to Miss Ken- 
nedy and Mr. and Mrs. Greg, in Cheshire — Professor Smyth of Cambridge, 
and T E. Cnrrie there- Return to York — Winter there, 1821-22 — Return 
to Edinburgh, summer 1822 — George IV. 's visit — Mrs. Grant of Laggan's 
loyalty — Highland gratitude — Sir Walter Scott — Crabbe the poet— Wil- 
liam Wolfe Tone — Letter to Mrs. Stark on T. E. Currie — Interest in Home 
for young delinquents — .Winter of 1822-23 — Maria Edgeworth in Edinburgh 
— First impressions of her — Take her to Sir R. Liston's — Letters to her 
daughters on meeting Brougham and Denman — Viewfield incidents — 
Visit to Honorable Mrs. H. Erskine — Sinclair Culleii's visit — Marquis 
and Marquise de Bossi — Settle at Auchindinny House, April, 1821 — En- 
joyment there — Death of Mrs. Barbauld — Her character — Visit to Edin- 
burgh— 1826-7 — The ''Great Unknown" reveals himself — Letter to Mrs. 
Laycock — Return to Auchindinny in spring — Hear of Angus Fletcher's 
illness at Rome — His return home — Recovery there — Jlr. Fletcher's ill- 
ness — E. Taylor's death — Miles A. Fletcher's serious illness — His letter 
to his mother — Mr. Fletcher's death — Accoiint of "Dramatic Sketches" 
printed the winter before — Letters about them —Sinclair CuUen's Lines to 
E. F., 1826 — Letters to her daughters in 1825 — Letter from T. Campbell on 
Theodoric Page 133 



PART IV. 

Leave Auchindinny, January, 1829 — Go to Tadcaster — Letter to Dr. F. Boott 
— Take a cottage at Bilton near Rugby — Our neighbors there— First meet- 
ing with Dr. and Mrs. Arnold — Letter to Mrs. Craig — School-house at 
Rugby — Mr. Keble — Visit of Dr. John Davy — Mrs. Penrose's meeting with 



CONTENTS. vu 

Mrs. Fletcher — Marriage of Margaret Fletcher and Dr. Dary, on March 
8, 1830 — Visit to London and Paris — Visit to the Abb6 Gregoire — General 
de Lafayette — His kindness — The historian Mignet — Paris and its insti- 
tutions-Letter to Mrs. Thomson — Miles A. Fletcher's illness — Visit to 
Edinburgh, and takes charge of his sons, when their parents go to Jersey 
for winter — Mrs. Fletcher returns to Yorkshire— Letter to her daughter 
Mary on Yorkshire Election, 1831 — Death of her son Miles, August, 1831 — 
Letter to Mrs. Davy at Malta — Visit to Coniston and Brougham Hall — 
Edinburgh winter — First popular Election there — Letter from T. Campbell 

— Return to Tadcastur, 1833 — Letter to Mrs. Davy— Take lodgings at Thorney 
How in July — First knowledge of Easedale — Visit to Southey — See much 
of Wordsworth — Return to Tadcaster — York meeting in honor of Wilber- 
force — Death of Aunt Dawson — Her character — Leave Tadcaster, May, 
1834 — A month in London —Lord Brougham's kindness — A tour in North 
Devon, and visit near Ilfracombe — Take a house near Ha wkshead — Return 
of Dr. and Mrs Davy from Malta — Happy family meeting at Keen Ground 
in May, 1835 — Take house at Darland Cottage near Chatham — Swiss tour in 
June and July, 1836 — General La Harpe described in letter to Mrs. Boott — 
Excursions in Kent — Wordsworth's visit at Darland, August, 1837— Visit to 
London — First meeting witb Mazzini — Two letters from him to Mrs. F. — 
Visit at Oxton on the way to Edinburgh — Take villa of Duncliffe — Kindness 
of friends — Letters from George Ticknor, Boston, and Joanna Baillie — Aunt 
Mary Hill's illness and death, 1839 — Lancrigg for sale — Dora Wordsworth's 
letter — Purchase of Lancrigg — Take possession of it. May, 1840 —Walk with 
Wordsworth in Easedale — Westmoreland workmen — Hartley Coleridge — 
Mrs. Fletcher's illness, 1842- Dr. Arnold's death — Last winter at Dun- 
clitfe — Return to Lancrigg as a residence — Christmas festivities — Sonnet 
by Mr. Graves, 15th January, 1845 — Visit to Blackheath, April, 1845 — 
Mazzini — Visit to Edinburgh, spring 1846 — Dr. Chalmers — Winter at Lan- 
crigg — Spring at Leamington, London, and visits in South — To Lancrigg, 
May, 1847 — Letter to Mrs. Chapnxan — Letter from Lord Jeffrey, May, 1847 

— Her daughter Mary's marriage to Sir John Richardson, August, 1847 — 
Visit to Liverpool, February ,J184S — Mrs. Rathbone — London and Haslar — 
Letter to Mrs. Stark — Mary Barton and Mrs. Gaskell — Lines on 1st May, 
1849, by E. F.— Letter to Sir J. Richardson — To her daughter Mary — 
Meeting Chevalier Bunsen — Letters to Mrs. Boott and Mrs. Arnold — Let- 
ters to Mrs. Burge and Mrs. Davy — London meeting with Mr. Rogers, April, 
1850 — Death and funeral of Wordsworth — Letters to Lady Richardson — 
Lines on leaving Grasmere Churchyard, April 27, 1850, by E. F. — Letter 
from Joanna Baillie to Mrs. Fletcher — Letter to Harriet Martineau on 
Somerset the slave — Letter to her daughter Mary, 1850 — Lord Cockburn to 
Mrs. F. — Last Edinburgh visit — Her grandson Henry's marriage — Kossuth 

— Mrs. Gaskell — Thomas Wright — London — Mazzini — Winter at Haslar 

— To Mrs. Arnold, Fox How — To Mrs. Davy on her birthday, 1852 — Letter 
to same about excursions from Haslar — Return to Lancrigg in April — 
Visitors there. Sir Edward and Lady Parry — Lord Cockburn's letter to Mrs. 
F , with his Life of Jelfrey, 1852 — Lines on Wordsworth and his sister — 
Sonnet to Mrs. Fletcher by R. P. Graves on 84th birthday — Letters to Mrs. 
Hughes and Mrs. Arnold — Letters from Mazzini — Death of Lord Cockburn 

— Letter to Mrs. Hughes — Visit of Mrs. Empson — Meets Lord John Russell, 



vm CONTENTS. 

1854 — SpringrfieM Lodge — "Winter — Letters on the return of troops — Let- 
ter on PMward Richardson's death — Last month of housekeeping — Death 
of Josephine Richardson — lUness and death of E. Davy, 1857 — Last letter 
to Mrs. Stark, October, 1857 — Increasing depression — Death, 5th February, 
1858 — Letter from Rev. R. P. Graves to Lady Richardson . . . Page 180 

CONCLUDING CHAPTER Page 327 

MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER, BY HER Mother .... Page 341 

MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER, Advocate, by his 

Widow Page 361 




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AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MRS. FLETCHER. 



PART I. 

I WAS born on the 15th of January, 1770, at the village 
of Oxton, near Tadcaster, in Yorkshire. My father was 
descended from a respectable race of yeomen, his grand- 
father having purchased a small estate in the township of 
Oxton, in the time of Charles II., as appeai-s by the title- 
deeds. His father, in addition to his paternal property, 
rented a large farm at Wighill Grange, the property of the 
Stapletons of Wighill Park. My mother was the eldest 
daughter of "William Hill, Esquire, of Oxton, who inherited 
a considerable estate, which had lineally descended to him 
from the time of Queen Elizabeth, his ancestor being a 
younger brother of the Hills of Marston. 

My father was a man^-of quick parts and ingenuous 
dispositions, but having a disinclination to the learned 
languages as a boy, and a strong preference for figures, he 
studied geometry and mensuration under the Rev. Mr. 
Atkinson, of Thorp Arch, and was, at fifteen, apprenticed 
to Mr. Lund, a land-surveyor and land-valuer, at Dring 
Houses, near York. He was the eldest of four children, 
and his father dying when he was about twenty, he 
succeeded to the small estate at Oxton, which, with in- 
dustrious attention to his business,, enabled him to marry 
Miss Hill in 1768, when he established himself at Oxton. 
My father and mother had been acquainted from their 

1 A 



2 A UTO BIO GRA PII Y. 

childhood ; for though her condition was somewhat 
superior to his, yet his sister and she being at the York 
Manor Boarding School together, and being neighbors in 
the country, they were early thrown together, and could 
scarcely remember the time when they did not love each 
other better than they loved any one else. My mother's 
early attachment was put to the test, for at the Manor 
School she became intimate with a young lady of ancient 
family and aristocratic connections, and, moreover, an 
heiress, with whom my mother afterwards visited the then 
fashionable places of resort, such as Bath and Clifton, as 
well as London and Windsor, when Miss Hebburn occa- 
sionally visited these places under the care of her maternal 
aunt and guardian, Mrs. Johnstone. My mother's personal 
attractions and pleasing manners brought many admirers 
round her, but her tirst love made her indifferent to their 
attentions, and in October, 1768, when she was twenty- 
four years of age, she rewarded my father's constancy and 
worth by becoming his wife. Their happiness was not of 
long duration. At the end of the first year she had a still- 
born male child, and at the beginning of the year 1770 
she died of milk-fever, after child-birth of me. 

Thus early deprived of the blessing of a mother's care 
and tenderness, I became the object of my father's concen- 
trated affections, and not of his only, but of those of his 
mother, brother, and sister, who, on the death of his wife, 
all became inmates of his family. Perhaps there never 
was a more cherished infancy and childhood than mine ; 
and if this did not make me selfish in the worst sense of 
die term, I escaped that misfortune from having my affec- 
tions and sympathy constantly exercised by feelings of love 
and gratitude towards those around me. My grandmother, 
"eldest of forms," was a woman of violent temper and 
stronff affections. She exacted obedience and habitual 



HAPPY CHILDHOOD. 3 

attention from all her family, and I was accustomed to see 
her treated with the greatest respect by her sons and 
daughter. She was kind and beneficent to her poor 
neighbors. She used to send me with her tea-pot to the 
sick cottagers, for tea was then a luxury confined to the 
upper and middle classes — it formed no part of the diet of 
the poor. The village people consisted of eight laborers' 
families, three of whom had married from my grandmother's 
service. It was a little patriarchal community. They treated 
her with the same respect as if she were still their mis- 
tress. She was always doing them some little offices of 
kindness, in which she employed me likewise. I had one 
favorite little village playmate, Polly Bovill. I never 
was allowed to tyrannize over my humble companion, and 
I think she died before I felt aware that there was any dis- 
tinction of rank between us. I visited her many times a 
day, when she was on her death-bed, and I remember being 
struck by her saying, " I shouldn't like to be buried in Wig- 
hill Churchyard, it is so lonely." 

When I was about six years old, an event occurred which 
probably had a considerable influence on my future char- 
acter and fate. My mother's early friend, Miss Hebburn, 
had married (I think twQ^^r three years before she did) 
the Rev. Edward Brudenell, a descendant of Lord Car- 
digan, and nearly related to the Duke of Montague. Mr. 
Brudenell had served as aide-de-camp to his father in the 
German war, and was induced to quit his profession of a 
soldier and to enter the service of the Church for the sake 
of a good living, the gift of which was in his family. This 
unworthy motive for engaging in the profession of a clergy- 
man was followed by such consequences as might have 
been expected. The habits of dissipation he had acquired 
in the army were not forsaken, and his marriage to an 
heiress was a further step to the gratification of his 



4 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

expensive pleasures. He was a man of insinuating and 
accomplished manners, but totally without moral or re- 
ligious principle, and the selfish hardness of his heart 
showed itself in utter disregard of the happiness of an 
affectionate wife, and in the grossest indulgence in illicit 
amours and profligate habits of expense. His wife brought 
him two sons ; they both however died in infancy, and 
after suffering every species of unkindness and indignity, 
Mrs. Brudenell came to the resolution of parting from her 
ungenerous and cruel husband. This resolution was not 
hastily formed, and it was resolutely executed. She was 
on a visit at my father's house at Oxton, and while there 
wrote to inform Mr. Brudenell of her determination to 
insist upon her separate maintenance or pin-money, as 
fixed in her marriage settlement, and to part from him 
whom she could no longer respect or love. Mr. Brudenell 
suddenly appeared at Oxton, and after some conversation, 
in which he opposed the resolution she had formed of a 
final separation, saying that he chose " to keep up appear- 
ances," they retired separately for the night. My grand- 
mother, who was in Mrs. Brudenell's confidence, promptly 
arranged that in the middle of the night two horses should 
be in readiness to take this injured woman to a place 
of concealment, accompanied by my aunt Miss Dawson. 
Accordingly at midnight the fugitives escaped. My uncle 
and aunt accompanied Mrs. Brudenell along a private road 
about half a mile from my father's house, at the end of 
which Mr. John Hartley (a trusty neighbor) was waiting 
with two horses. Each of the gentlemen took one of the 
ladies behind him on a pillion, and took the road to 
Moor Monkton, a very sequestered village about nine miles 
distant, where a relation of my grandmother's lived. In 
that family they were hospitably received, and the gentle- 
men returned to their respective places of abode, without 



HISTORY OF MRS. BRUDENELL. 5 

any one suspecting that they had been concerned in the 
adventure. Mrs. Brudenell had left a letter with my 
grandmother for her husband, repeating her determination 
to live with him no longer; and threatening that, if he 
attempted to molest her or refused the separate mainten- 
ance provided by her marriage settlement, she would throw 
herself on the protection of the Duke of Montague, and 
disclose the cruelty with which she had been treated. 
The reverend gentleman knew the spirit and firmness of 
his wife's character too well to risk such a disclosure. 
She had borne much, for she had loved much; but when 
she lost her children, she felt that there would be mean- 
ness and degradation in living longer with a man who had 
violated every principle of honor in his cruel infidelity to 
her, and who no longer regarded her but as an object of 
convenience. 

On quitting her place of concealment, Mrs. Brudenell 
visited some of her mother's connections in London, while 
Mr. Brudenell made some arrangements with respect to 
her estate of Hebburn in Northumberland, and he finally 
agreed to allow her £100 a year. From the deranged 
state of his own affairs, he found it expedient to accept 
the appointment (obtained-^ for him by his half-brother, 
General Philips) of chaplain to General Burgoyne's army, 
along with a detachment of which he sailed for America 
in the year 1776. 

My father felt a strong interest in the friend of his late 
wife. Her generous and affectionate disposition made her 
cling to his young child as her mother's representative, 
and my father offered her a small cottage on his property 
at Oxton, if she could find repose and comfort in so hum- 
ble a dwelling. She gladly accepted this asylum, and 
having much taste for the elegancies of life, she soon 
converted her little thatched house into a cottage ornee, 



6 ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and established herself there with two maid-servants, when 
I was between five and six years old. She devoted some 
hours of every day to teaching me to read and work, but 
this was the least part of my education from her. She 
cultivated my taste for poetry, exercised my imagination 
and heart by the history of her own eventful life, and 
by other narratives calculated to excite and interest a 
cliild. In truth, she supplied too much excitement to one 
who was perhaps predisposed to strong emotions and keen 
sensibility. She unwittingly supplied excitements to van- 
ity, by making too great a display of my slender acquire- 
ments. I was brought forward on every occasion to recite 
passages from Pope's Homer or the Plays of Shakespeare, 
and was accustomed to hear and to expect high commen- 
dations of my wonderful powers and extraordinary accom- 
plishments. If these dangerous stimulants had not been 
comiteracted by the simple habits of a village life, and by 
the cultivation of the affections, I must have become an 
intolerable mass of conceit and pretension. 

But here I must indulge in retracing more at length the 
affectionate family group round our cheerful fireside in 
the little parlor at Oxton. My grandmother, a beautiful 
old woman, of quick and sensitive temper, uniting much 
generosity of feeling with homely and frugal habits ; my 
father, her eldest son, of a remarkably cheerful and hos- 
pitable disposition. He became a widower at thirty years 
of age. He had been an adoring husband to his first love, 
and for many years he had so cherished his grief on losing 
her that her name was never mentioned in his presence, 
nor had he ever been able to enter the chamber where she 
died. This gave to her character, and to his affection, a 
sort of mysterious sacredness in my young imagination, 
and excited in my mind a deep and tender interest in 
everything that related to my mother. The loss of this 



FAMILY SKETCHES. 7 

dear mother's tenderness was, however, supplied to me in 
no common degree by my excellent aunt Dawson, one of 
the most single-hearted and unselfish of human beings. 
She was my father's only sister, and she took a siDecial 
charge of me from the time of my mother's death, which 
happened ten days after I was born. Night and day this 
kind aunt watched over me. She had a meek and sub- 
missive temper, with a considerable portion of eai'ly ro- 
mance. She had good looks and gentle manners, and she 
was sought by many lovers ; but, though in favor of one 
of these her young heart was deeply interested, she reso- 
lutely determined not to marry lest in that case my father 
might give me a stepmother, who might not treat me 
kindly. My poor grandmother was tormented with that 
apprehension ; and listening at one time too credulously 
to gossips' tales, she took it into her head that my fa- 
ther's visits to a lady in the neighboring market town would 
end in marriage. Not being able to extract a serious 
denial of this report from my father, I well remember 
the old lady's indignation rising to a high pitch at the 
notion of this impending evil ; and • one day, taking me 
by the hand, she said : " Child, you and I will beg our 
way through the wide ^orld together rather than you 
shall submit to the cruelty of a stepmother." With this 
we set out together to leave my father's house, and were 
trudging away to Wighill Grange, where her second son 
lived on his farm, about three miles from Oxton. We 
were in high heroics, for I remember — though then not 
more than seven years old — thinking it would be a fine 
thing to beg one's bread rather than submit to cruelty 
and injustice. But we were soon overtaken in our Quix- 
otic pilgrimage by Mrs. Brudenell and my aunt, who pre- 
vailed on the old lady and her companion to return to their 
comfortable home, where an explanation soon took place 



8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

between her and my father. These " cataracts and breaks," 
however, did not often interrupt the serenity of our lives. 
Such exhibitions of temper might have lessened my love 
and veneration for my father, against whom they were 
most improperly directed, but such was his invariable 
kindness that they had no such effect. My father's young- 
est brother, William Dawson, also formed part of the 
family, and was as indulgent to me as the rest. He was 
passionately fond of music, and played beautifully on the 
German flute. My aunt had a pleasing voice and a good 
ear, and she sang sweetly. I had no young companions 
in the family, but I was " mirth and matter " to them all. 
I spent the early part of every day with Mrs. Brudenell, 
and she spent the evening with us ; and music and story- 
telling, recitations from Pope's Homer, or Shakespeare's 
Plays, with sometimes a pool at commerce, or a game at 
blind-man's-buff, were our evening recreations. 

Mr. John Dawson, my uncle, at Wighill, had two chil- 
dren, a son three years older and a daughter half a year 
younger than me. That he might have the advantage 
of attending a school at Tadcaster, my father took his 
young nephew for a time to live with us. This boy was 
a sad plague to me. He did not easily lose his own tem- 
per, but he delighted to vex and put me in a passion, and 
I attribute it somewhat to my early association with him 
that it has cost me so much all my life to combat my 
besetting sin — the being too easily provoked to anger. 
His sister, Elizabeth Dawson, had the sweetest temper 
possible. She and I never had a quarrel in our lives. 
Her visits at Oxton were long and frequent. We were 
delighted to be together. Though six months younger 
than me, she could read well, when I could only say my 
alphabet : the emulation she excited at six years old made 
me give my mind to reading, and having once attained 



HER MOTHERS FAMILY. 9 

that difficult art, I devoured every book that fell in my 
way. There were then no books for children but fairy 
tales, and JEsop's and Gay's Fables. My father's library 
was upon a small scale; the Spectator, Milton's "Works, 
Shakespeare's Plays, Pope's and Dryden's Poems, Her- 
vey's Meditations, Mrs. Rowe's Letters, Shenstone's Poems, 
Sherlock's Sermons, with some abridgments of history 
and geography, filled his little book-shelves. To these 
Mrs. Brudenell's store added a few other works, such as 
Robertson's History of Scotland, Sully's Memoirs, Pope's 
Homer, etc. My cousin Elizabeth and I cherished the 
fondest friendship for each other. We contrived little 
stories and acted them together, often weeping and laugh- 
ing heartily over our own tragi-comedies. I returned her 
visits at Wighill Grange, the only visits in which I had 
then any pleasure, because there was no restraint. The 
sheep-shearings there were days of great festivity. "We 
milked the ewes, and had our dairy in a hollow tree, and 
gathered garlands to celebrate the 1st of May, and cowslips 
for making wine. My visits to my maternal grandfather's 
house were not exactly of that description. Mr. Hill was a 
man of very superior understanding, and an elegant classi- 
cal scholar, a perfect gentleman in manners, with a mild- 
ness and quietness approaching to Quakerism. He had an 
utter contempt for the vanities and frivolities of life. He 
lost his wife when his four daughters and his only son 
were very young, and he then took as inmate, a niece of 
his own, to be their guardian and companion. My mother, 
his eldest daughter, was the only one he ever sent to a 
boarding-school. He cultivated in them all a love of read- 
ing, a taste for simple pleasures, and a strong sense of 
usefulness and public good. He gave his son a liberal 
education, having sent him to "Westminster School, and 
entered him a student of Gray's Inn, preparatory to his 
1» 



10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

being called to the Bar. This young man, whether from 
his mother's injudicious kindness in early childhood, or from 
naturally headstrong passions, proved a great grief to his 
family. With talents and acquirements of a high order 
for his profession, he became such a lover of pleasure, and 
such a slave to sensual habits, that without violating the 
estimation of men of the world, he sacrificed professional 
eminence and domestic respectability by his passion for 
hunting and his indulgence in licentious dissipation. Mr. 
Hill's three daughters were exemplary in their dutiful 
attention to their father, and in their unwearied devotion 
to the moral and religious education of the poor. They 
established the second Sunday-school that was taught in 
England, as early as the year 1784, having read in ''The 
Gentleman's Magazine " an account of the first experiment 
of the kind made by Mr. Raikes, a public-spirited printer 
at Gloucester. My visits to these excellent relations when 
I was a child were rather those of duty than inclination. 
They were strict in their notions of duty and self-denial. 
They had been educated themselves in a stoical school, and 
neither claimed for themselves nor exercised towards others 
much indulgence. Their notions were of too severe and 
strict a cast to please a child accustomed to sympathy and 
fond caresses, as I was at my father's house. The day I 
was to spend with them was looked forward to as a day 
of trial, and got over as a day of penance. Never shall I 
forget how, at the end of a passage leading from their back 
yard, I used to watch for John Copeland, an old man who 
passed that way every evening to milk his cow at Oxton, 
and beseech him to tell my grandmother to send for me 
home, be the night ever so wet or stormy. These messages 
were never neglected. John Bovill, an old Oxton cottager, 
a favorite tenant of my father's, was duly despatched on 
his gray mare, and, muffled in a red cloak, I rode before 



HER AUNT MARY HILL. ' 11 

him, often through rain or snow, to the bright fireside, 
where a kind and cheerful welcome always awaited me. 
My grandfather and aunts Hill were not unkind to me ; 
they were only reserved, and the ladies admonitory. They 
gave me plenty of advice, but no sympathy ; they were 
intelligent, just, and good, but they saw in me the faults of 
a spoiled child, and thought it their duty to point them 
out. I do not remember my grandfather's having ever in 
his life taken me on his knee, or kissed me. He was to me 
a very awful person, one before whom I was always on my 
good behavior. At that time I liked my uncle Hill (by 
far the least deserving of the family) much the best of 
them all, because he used to play with me, and once he 
took me before him on horseback a-hunting, which I then 
considered the height of human happiness. But I was 
cured of my passion for that sport by hearing the shriek 
of the poor hare when the hounds pounced upon her. I 
screamed louder than the hare ; the si3ortsmen laughed at 
me, and when poor puss was dead, they swung her across 
my shoulders, and I toiled home, half a mile, crying bitterly, 
half proud, half ashamed of my trophy. I could not forget 
the pitiful shriek of the poor hare, and never more wished 
to go a-hunting. _ 

As I advanced in life I learned to make a juster estimate 
of the worth of my mother's family, and looked up to my 
grandfather with real respect, and to my aunts with much 
regard, especially the youngest, Miss Mary Hill, who, at the 
time I am writing these reminiscences, is in her 85th year. 
She has as strong and original a mind as I have ever known, 
of high principle, and most extensive benevolence, with 
more habitual self-denial than I have met with in any other 
person. She bestows three fourths of her income to feed, 
clothe, and instruct the poor. She is not indiscriminate in 
her charities, but devotes herself in Christian love to her 



12 ■ AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Master's business. If she had been placed in circumstances 
to exercise the smaller sympathies as well as the virtues 
of charity and self-denial, hers would have been a more 
attractive character ; but I have much personal cause of 
gratitude to, as well as of veneration for her, and am 
often reminded of the false estimate I see others make of 
the value of things by comparing it with her practical 
wisdom. At eighty-five, she declares old age to be the 
happiest period of human life, because the most free from 
cares and worldly anxieties, and the nearest to its heavenly 
destination. 

[Letter from Mr. Hill to his Sdn, in January^ 1767. 

Dear Tom, — I am glad thou hast so far conquered the 
pride and self-conceit that so commonly prevails over mankind 
as to acknowledge thou hast thy share of it : this is a great 
step, but thou must not stop here. A good general must not 
only know how to gain a battle, but likewise how to turn it to 
advantage, for pride will be always up in rebellion, and the 
weeds and brambles are as constantly to "be plucked out of the 
mind as they are out of a well-cultivated farm. Self-conceit* 
has a like ill effect on the body by its close connection with the 
mind, as from this source all that train of maladies called hyp 
and vapors are derived, and the self-conceited man quarrels 
with the W'orld because it does not pay that regard to his merits 
he thinks he is entitled to, whereas the humble man is happy 
in meeting with more respect than he thinks he deserves. As 
these two different tempers have such different effects with 
regard to mankind, so doubt not but they will have the like 
with respect to the Author and wdse Governor of the universe, 
whose protection thou must always seek, and whose guidance 
thou must always rely on if thou hopest for happiness and 
comfort. — •! am thy affectionate father, William Hill.] ^ 

1 [There was a tradition in the Hill family which should not be omitted, 
although not recorded by our mother herself, but kept in remembrance by 
me, in the form of a sword presented to me in one of my early winters at 



TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 13 

My father was at this time, 1778, much employed as a 
commissioner under various Acts of Parliament for enclos- 
ing and dividing common land attached to townships, 
while my uncle took the surveying department. This took 
them much from home; and I well remember the joy 
which ray father's return,' especially, diffused through all 
his little household. I used to be on the watch for him at 
our garden gate, listening for the tramp of his horse, hours 
before his arrival. I had been diligently employed weed- 
ing or watering his favorite flowers, or seeing his pointers 
fed, and doing everything I thought would give me a claim 
to his approbation. He was fond of his garden, and made 
me a partaker in all his amusements there. On returning 
home, he had always something new and amusing to relate, 
and genei-ally some little present to bi-ing to each of us : 
perhaps some fairy tales for me, a matronly ribbon for his 
mother's neat mob-cap, or a new song for his sister. At this 
time the American revolutionary war was at its height. My 
father felt strongly on the Whig side of that question, and 
he and my grandfather Hill agreed in reprobation of taxing 
the colonies without their own consent. T understood, of 
course, nothing about the matter, but I listened with intense 
interest to these discussions, and picked up some notions of 
national justice and injustice. 

Tadcaster, by my great-aimt Maiy Hill. This basket-hilted sword was said 
to have belonged to an officer of the Hill family, behind whom the Lady 
Fairfax rode when she was taken prisoner on her way to Cawood Castle. 
Hartley Coleridge, in his Life of Sir T. Fairfax, mentions this, in the words 
of her husband, which he quotes, and it is there said that the name of this 
officer was " Will. Hill." What, however, made this so interesting to me at 
the time was this, that a certain Grace Hill, belonging to this family of Hills, 
went to the field of battle after the field was won, to look for the body of her 
brother, who could not be heard of, found him wounded but alive, brought 
him home and he recovered, and that is unfortunately all that I could ever 
learn of this, to me notable, heroine of my early days. The sword is still to 
be seen.] 



14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I think it was in the year 1779 that my father took us 
all to a review of the West York Militia, on Chapeltown 
Moor, near Leeds. The regiment was at that time com- 
manded by Sir George Savile, whose speeches I had often 
heard my father read with peculiar emphasis and satisfac- 
tion, considering him as the most patriotic and honest man 
in the House of Commons. He happened to be personally 
acquainted with Sir George, and meeting him accidentally 
that day, he invited us all into his tent, and regaled us with 
wine, fruit, etc. He took me on his knee, and his good 
nature found amusement at my childish delight in all the 
" pomp and circumstance " of the review. For many a day 
after I enacted the glories of that day in the little garden 
at Oxton, shouldering my musket, rushing on to the 
charge, marching in quick and slow time. But the 
greatest glory of all was having sat on the knee of Sir 
George Savile. At that time Sir George's hair was thin 
and grizzled, and stood off from his face, and it much 
amused my father to find me often frizzling, or, as I said, 
" Sir George Saviling " my hair in the weeks after I had 
seen him. Sympathy with my father's high esteem for 
that good man's public virtue laid perhaps the foundation of 
my hero-worship. 

[Another little tradition of our mother's child-days must, 
as we think, have belonged to this time, though not given in 
her written record. It was lodged in the faithful memory of 
good aunt Dawson, who was fond of telling it to us. She 
had taken her young charge, on medical advice, for a few 
weeks to Harrogate, and during their abode there the little 
girl's beauty had attracted much notice from a childless lady 
of fortune who was an inmate with them of the same hotel, 
and who sometimes begged to have her in the carriage to take 
drives along with her. One of these included a visit to the 
best furnished toy-shop of the place ; but this, as the lady 



TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 15. 

observed on bringing her back to aunt Dawson, had not proved 
so successful in the way of amusing her little friend as she had 
hoped. " She was bright and lively," she said, " as usual on 
setting forth, but has been out of spirits on our way back, and 
I have returned the sooner to you, thinking she may feel 
unwell." It was not illness, however, only a sad disaj^point- 
ment to the eager little spirit, as she soon told when the ill- 
judging lady had left them. " Oh, aunt, if you had seen the 
drums, and the trumpets, and the guns and swords in that shop 
— and see (unwrapping a costly article from its paper covering), 
see, she has given me nothing but this stupid doll." 

To us, who knew the dear subject of these memorials as 
none else could, and who also knew most of those with whom 
her early days were passed, it has often been curiously inter- 
esting to note how strongly were met in her the hereditary 
instincts derived from both sides of her parentage. The quick, 
almost fiery temper — the affectionate, forgiving heart — the 
plain household integrity and sense of duty of the one, — her 
father's side ; and the more intellectual cast, and (with nothing 
less of "plain living") more "high thinking" tendencies of 
the other, — her mother's side, which, as she has told, led her 
aunts Hill to a sympathy with all purposes of public good, 
and to deeds of their own in accordance. From neither 
parental side, as we think, came, her hero-worship (in military 
sense), which we saw as keenly alive in her eighty-fourth year, 
during the Crimean war, aS^it could have been in her ninth. * 
This, if indeed it be not a part of every impulsive nature, must 
have been early engrafted on hers in her morj^ing readings 
and talks with Mrs. Brudenell, herself a soldier's daughter, 
who, as we can remember, in her talks of after-years with us, 
delighted to show how fully she inherited, as well she might, 
her father's chivalrous Northumbrian pride in his descent 
(collaterally) from that hero of Chevy Chase memory, the 
Widdrington, who, 

" When his legs were smitten off, 
Still fought upon his stumps." 

One point of woman's taste which seerrlfed in her instinctive 
hke the other, Mrs. Brudenell quite failed to impart to her 



16 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

pupil, the love of needlework. Plain work, indeed, was not 
her forte ; the skill and practice in it which enabled aunt 
Dawson on one renowned occasion (the only self-boast that, I 
think, we ever heard her utter), to begin and finish a fine 
shirt in one day, never was attained by the more aristocratic 
family friend. Indeed, as aunt Dawson used to tell us, 
Mrs. Brudenell always maintained that plain hemming or 
stitching gave her a disabling pain in her thumb ; but in the 
higher branches of the needle's doings she would gladly have 
taught her pet pupil to excel. It was in vain, however, that 
precepts were uttered by her on this matter, or that her goodly 
examples of cross-stitch, or tent-stitch, reaching even to hearth- 
rugs and carpets in these kinds, were set before our mother. 
One small token only of her having attained even the art of 
mai'king letters with the needle has been preserved amongst us 
— a sampler ; and we infer that she had been induced so to 
employ her fingers by being allowed a little expression of hero- 
worship at the end of the toil, there being inscribed by her 
needle on the canvas (after the usual alphabet in letters great 
and small, and some not very happy imitation of flowers 
in worsted) a favorite passage from Pope's Homer, ending 
with the sounding couplet : 

" Who dares think one thing and another tell. 
My soul detests him as the gates of Hell." i 

J From her ninth year, her age at the date of the " glorious " 
day of the review and Sir George Savile's entertainment in 
his tent, there is a break in the thread of our mother's written 
reminiscences of her happy child-life till she takes it up again 
to tell of what was in truth her first sorrow, the being sent to 
school. The even tenor of those village days left her probably 

1 The second couplet inserted in the no-w moth-eaten sampler which I 
lately inspected is quite as prophetic of her future constancy in friend- 
ship as the first is as to her moral standard of truth and falsehood. It is 
this: — 

" The friends thou hast and their adoption tried. 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel." 

Certainly no one ever did more fully follow out the good advice of Polonius 
on this point than she did from youth to age. 



TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 17 

little to note down concerning the two intervening years, but 
her vivid recollections of all this young time, so often the sub- 
ject-matter of her talks with us, and good aunt Dawson's also, 
whose village annals had a simple, truthful quaintness about 
them very pleasant to hear and to remember, and our own 
knowledge of the localities, enable us well to imagine, almost to 
see, how those years went on, with " working day and holiday," 
in wholesome interchange. Oxton was a hamlet rather than a 
village, its cottage homesteads lying apart from one another for 
about a quarter of a mile along the right and left sides of the 
lane leading from Tadcaster (distant a mile on one side) to 
Bolton Percy, about three miles farther on the other side. It 
had no village green, but there were grass fields on all sides ; 
those on the right (as you entered from Tadcaster) stretching 
down from behind the cottages to the banks of the river Wharfe, 
those on the left to the York turnpike-road, from whence a cart 
rather than carriage-way led to the village at its entrance. 
There was nothing, in tourist phrase, very "attractive " in the 
surroundings of Oxton, or in the place itself. Our grandfather's 
dwelling, the only one above those of the laborers' sort, was, 
and is, confessedly ugly in outward aspect: a brick house, some- 
what narrow for its height, with a square, low-walled and hedged 
garden in front, opening by a little gate on the village lane. 
An old porched house which once stood on the side nearly op- 
posite, constructed of bi'ick interspersed with beams of black 
oak and plaster, which might'have been a franklin's hall, was 
in our time but a tradition of the past. And yet, though there 
might be little that was picturesque at Oxton, hardly anything, 
as modern ladies say, to " sketch " (save a fine old walnut tree 
standing about midway on the side of the irregular village street 
just before John Bovill's cottage), there was much to enjoy. 
Each cottage, besides having the needful comforts within, had 
the free air without, and nearly all had a little orchard as 
well as garden ground behind. Th^ place always had a "heart- 
some '' look, as we used to come upon it from under the shade 
of some fine trees overshadowing the lane at its entrance on the 
Tadcaster side; and there was a field just there that looked like 
a fragment of park scenery. Some stately oaks grew in its 
hedgerows, and a few noble elms within the enclosure at its lower 



18 A UTOBIO GJRAPHY. 

end. But our mother's favorite fields were at the other end 
of the village, beyond Mrs. Brudenell's cottage. They opened 
on a pretty bit of bosky lane, in the direction of Bolton Percy, 
All the fields round would probably have been open to her wan- 
derings ; many had footpaths through them, but these, as her 
father's possessiofi, were her own more especial domain for 
violet-picking in March, and birdnest-seeking (to look into rever- 
ently) later on in the spring, and for large cowslip-gathering 
when wine-making time was at hand, and for that most clierished 
of all her young holiday joys, the flower-collecting for her gar- 
land to be hung over the house-door early on the first day of 
May. Oxton did not boast of a May-pole. So far as we have 
heard her. say, garland-making there was for household adorn- 
ment only, in which on May-day no cottage home was to be found 
lacking. Often has she recounted to us, and sometimes in 
the same scene and season, when the primrose tufts and the 
"nodding forests" of blue hyacinths were rife in the hedge- 
rows of those fields, and the cowslip was scenting the air 
everywhere, the true story of these May-day preparations ; 
how, on the last day of April, she and her cousin from Wig- 
hill Grange, or failing her, some young playfellow of the vil- 
lage children, were set free from all tasks directly after break- 
fast, and allowed to follow their own devices till well on in the 
aftei'noon, no home dinner hour to be obsei'ved ; their midday 
meal, a standing meat pie and some sweet articles, being 
packed up for them in a covered basket by the unfailing pro- 
vider aunt Dawson. Aunt D. did not fail to recommend that 
the basket should not be opened till fair dinner-time, but this, 
.like much other good advice, our mother used to admit was 
.not always followed. It icas difficult to help peeping in, just 
;to see what aunt Dawson had put in besides the meat pie, 
and then a little tasting followed, more than once perhaps, be- 
fore the flower-gatherers sat down to their dinners in good 
earnest. But the business of this happy day was not neglected. 
All that was wanted for the garland was ready before tea-time 
(not much after four o'clock in those days) brought them home 
to sort and tie up the posies, and with Mrs. Brudenell's help 
make all right for fastening them on to the large osier frame- 
work (something of globe fashion) which was to display their 



TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 19 

beauties next morning. No wonder that we should like to 
dwell even to tediousness (we are growing old ourselves) on 
the " sunny memories " of our mother's child-days, for to the 
last hour that she was permitted here to enjoy anything, the 
thought of them never failed to light up her face with a 
peculiar joyousness. Another cherished reminiscence of those 
days was the dance and supper of the haymakers on the last 
evening of their season's work. The Oxton festivity of this 
kind was held in a field close to Mrs. Brudenell's cottage, and 
she supplied the music, by drawing a barrel organ which stood 
in her parlor close to the window that looked into that field, at 
which she stood turning the handle with unwearied good humor 
till the dancers were tired and ready for the good supper cheer 
that followed. Much less was said and written then about the 
amusements of the people than in our days, but it was a clear 
part of our mother's remembrances that the laboring poor had 
lighter spirits than we see in them now, not only that they had 
more taste for the periodical play that lightens toil, Christmas 
mumming (" ploughstott " processions, as they were called in 
those parts), and the village " feasts " at Whitsuntide or Mid- 
summer, but that they were more habitually cheerful in their 
domestic ways. She often recalled with heart-pleasure the 
sight and sound of John Bovill's young family when gathered 
round the father and mother under that walnut tree aforesaid, 
on summer evenings, all singing together "lustily and with a 
good courage. " -'" 

No wonder that school in exchange for such home and 
village life looked a dolorous prospect, though its terror was 
not increased to her by any child timidity or bashf ulness ; and 
it could have been no cheerful prospect for those left behind 
either, so much of each day's " mirth and matter," as she has 
said, to be taken away from her father, grandmother, uncle 
William, and her mother aunt Dawson also. But we, who 
knew her unselfish ways and works, can well fancy how, when 
the matter was once settled, her thoughts were bent on the 
needful preparation for school apparel, and how well stored 
was the " goody box " on the last day's packing. Mrs. Brude- 
nell had her kindly cares and anxieties also ; but these related 
chiefly to the effect her pupil was to produce in the eyes both 



20 A UTO BIO GRAPH Y. 

of the teachers and the taught at the Manor School by her 
young attainments. It was she, as our mother used to tell us, 
■who took her to school and made the awful presentation to the 
presiding governess. 

The Manor House at York was, and is still, a fine building 
in the old city, and had its royal traditions, having been used 
as a resting-place, and sometimes as a dwelling-place by kings 
of England in the olden time, when occasions led them north 
of the Humber. It is well and worthily used now as the 
" Wilberforce School for the Blind," a fitting memorial chosen 
(on Lord Brougham's suggestion) for the honored man who, 
as one of the county members for Yorkshire, had so long 
pleaded the great interests of humanity in his place in Parlia^ 
ment. If sorrowful feeling had not quenched fancy, our 
mother, even at eleven years old, would have hked the place, 
at least of her banishment. A photographic picture of its 
venerable doorway and a window over it, that of the room 
in which she and an amiable schoolmate, a friend for life after- 
wards, slept, is of interest to us to look upon now. Her own 
record, however, gives but a comfortless picture of the time 
passed there, and of school ways at the place in best repute for 
the instruction of young ladies in her time in the North of 
England.] 

At eleven years old I was sent to the same boarding- 
school at York, at which my mother and Mrs. Brudenell 
had contracted their early friendship. It was a place in 
which nothing useful could be learned, but it did me some 
service, because I had something to unlearn. It taught me 
that all my reading was not to be compared with the graces 
that other girls had acquired at the dancing-school, and my 
rusticity subjected me to many wholesome mortifications. 
The dull restraints of a school life were extremely irksome 
to me; everything was artificial, flat, and uninteresting. 
One great reason of this, no doubt, was that whereas at 
home I was everything, at school I was nothing — self-love 
was in a perpetual state of subjection and humiliation. The 



MANOR SCHOOL LIFE. 21 

four years I spent at that school were not without their use, 
because if their experiences did not convince me that the 
making a graceful curtsy was the chief end of human exist- 
ence, and that an awkward gait was worse than a bad action, 
they did convince me that, if the acquirements I valued 
myself upon were not to be more admired by the world 
than they were by my school companions, I had made a 
very mistaken estimate indeed of the value of my own 
knowledge and literary attainments. I formed, however, 
some friendships at school which both at the time and after- 
wards permanently contributed much to my happiness. Of 
these were Miss Forster and her sisters, Miss Ann Cleaver, 
afterwards Mrs. Chapman, and Miss Beckwith, afterwards 
Mrs. Craik. But reflecting on my experience of a boarding- 
school as then conducted, I cannot but wonder how any one 
could escape the peril of such association as might have 
been met with there. The Manor School was in the hands 
of a very well-disposed, conscientious old gentlewoman, but 
of so limited an understanding that, under her rule, mischief 
of every kind (short of actual vice) was going on without 
her even suspecting it. Lessons were said by rote, without 
being understood ; servants were bribed to bring in dainties 
clandestinely; in short, every kind of dissimulation was 
practised to indemnify the subjects of this petty despotism 
for the restraints unnecessarily imposed upon them. During 
the four years I was at this school, two chapters of the Bible 
were read every morning by two of the young ladies as 
a reading lesson. Prayers were regularly drawled out by 
the husband of our governess, a choleric old man, who 
thumped our fingers so often for bad writing, with his 
mahogany ferule, that we listened to his prayers with' any 
feelings but those of love or devotion. I do not remember 
to have received a single religious impression at this school, 
though creeds were repeated, and catechisms taught, and 



22 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

all the formalities of religious service regularly performed. 
Four volumes of the Spectator constituted our whole school 
library. But besides the negative evils of such school life, 
was the misfortune of having as daily associates some girls 
of thoroughly depraved character. Two of these, the most 
remarkable for dissimulation and all evil characteristics, who 
afterwards married, eloped from their husbands. 

[" Such," our mother adds, " were the dangers to which the 
inmates of a boarding-school were then exposed." In thinking 
of her, well may we add — such were the healthy instincts that 
saved her from danger, and led her in that young school-world 
to " refuse the evil and choose the good." Her own intimate 
schoolmates, all of whom were well known to us in after-days, 
— pleasant it is now to remember how much we inherited of 
their kindly friendship, — were no less marked than herself by 
purity of thought, word, and deed. It was one trial of those 
weary years, a minor one certainly, and only matter for merry 
recollection with her friends afterwards, but sorely felt at the 
time, — that in the daily school walks she was coupled with a 
girl of uncommon stupidity, whose ideas ran on tarts and pud- 
dings only. She supposed that the lady at the head of the 
school had a special dislike to her, and that this infliction was ' 
a proof of it. A burst of tenderness from the old lady on her 
leaving school, however, brought forth an eclaircissement on 
this point. Tears were shed on both sides. " Why," said the 

pupil, " did you always make me walk with Miss ? " 

" My dear, I thought you might do her good, and she could do 
you no harm." And so it might be. We do not know what 
brightenings might come in after-life to that dull girl. 

As to the limitation of the school library, and the authorized 
reading, the Manor School girls of course indemnified them- 
selves in the usual manner of sufferers from undue prohibition. 
Our mother's school friends in after-days had happy remem- 
brances, along with her, of the httle reading parties gathered 
together round a fire, over some smuggled article of dramatic, 
and commonly of tragic sort — in one case indeed made doubly 
tragic, when, in the midst of a scene in the pathetic play of Sir 



MANOR SCHOOL LIFE. 23 

Thomas Overbury, one of the listeners, Hfting her arm in high 
excitement, dashed the little paper tome out of the reader's (our 
mother's) hand, and it flew into the fire, from whence hardly a 
fragment could be recovered. The " stolen pleasures " of such 
reading, in spite of occasional mishaps, were doubtless " sweet," 
and school dulness was sometimes, as she relates, otherwise 
diversified.] 

My father had many friends at York who were kind to 
me. It was at Mr. Forster's house [the father of her school 
friends of that name] that I was most at home. The family 
were old friends of Mrs. Brudenell. They had moved from 
their country seat, Bolton, in Northumberland, to live for 
some years at York for the education of their daughters. 
By Mrs. Forster I was always treated as one of her own 
children; but I never reflect with pleasure on my school- 
day life. I had more of the homesickness than most of 
my companions. From our play -ground on the " Manor 
shore" I could see Biibrough Spring, a tall clump of trees 
within three miles of my father's house. That clump of 
trees interested me more than any game at play, and it was 
only when I mounted my pony to trot homewards that I 
knew what real happiness was at that period. I left school 
finally at the midsummef^of 1785. So fond was I of my 
newly acquired freedom and command of time, that so long 
as the early mornings were light I rose at four o'clock, and 
with some favorite book, generally of poetry, I sauntered in 
the lanes or fields till our eight o'clock breakfast-time. 

[These were days of chosen remembrance with our mother. 
We can all recollect how, in our walks round Oxton together, 
she used to linger at one particular stile leading from the lane 
into a field footpath, and tell us of her sittings there on those 
early summer mornings. Like most ardent young readers of 
poetry, she wrote not a little verse in those days, the said stile 
being her seat, with pencil and note-book, for that pleasant 
rhyming work which Southey says " no one ever practised 



24 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

without being the better for it." We can well believe that she 
zoas the better for such expression of her young summer joy ; 
from any vanity that might have made her the worse, she was 
saved by a high and true sense of poetic beauty, an imagina- 
tion already fed by the mind and the music of Shakespeare 
(her father's recitation of nearly the whole play of " Romeo 
and Juliet " was among her earliest recollections), and an ear 
trained by the graceful flow of Pope.] 

About this time (in the same year of happy freedom), a 
friend of my father placed at my disposal £20 to make some 
addition to my slender stock of books. Well do I remem- 
ber with what exultation of delight I entered Old Tessy- 
man's, the bookseller's shop at York, to make my purchases. 
Warton's edition of Milton's lesser Poems, Cowper's first 
edition of his Poems, Hayley's Works, and Brydone's Tour, 
were amongst the number. There lived at that time in 
the neighboring village of Bolton Percy a family of the 
name of Ewbank. Mr. Ewbank, a man of good private 
fortune, was Curate of the parish, and lived at the Rectory. 
His wife was a truly devout and exemplary woman, of cul- 
tivated mind and great refinement of manners. Mrs. Bru- 
denell and I often visited this family. They formed my 
beau-ideal of domestic happiness, and they presented relig- 
ion to me in its most engaging form, " carrying it (as 
Dr. Chalmers would have said) into their week-day as 
well as their Sabbath ministrations." 

The very summer I left school an incident occurred 
which aftbrded interest to a romantic imagination. Mine 
had been little cultivated by novel-reading, but that se- 
ductive amusement had not been wholly resisted, and I 
had a great admiration for the military heroic. The 
addresses paid me by an officer whom I met at Thorp Arch ^ 

1 A watering-place on tlie banks of the Wharfe, about five miles from 
Oxton. 



HOME LIFE AND INTERESTS. 25 

while on a visit there, was the first episode of the kind in 
my simple annals. My notions of filial duty were of the 
strictest kind. I was wretched till I imparted my secret 
to my father, and more wretched still when he desired me 
at once to put a negative on the hopes of my adoring 
lover. Not that I was in love myself, but I never doubtfed 
that the gallant captain would, as he said, forthwith die of 
grief and distraction if I did not give a favorable answer 
to his suit. I am amused now by the simple credulity of 
a village girl of fifteen fifty years ago. There is not now 
a girl of that age, of capacity above an idiot's, who would 
not quiz the notion of a man's dying of love. A succession 
of admirers furnished me for the next two or three years 
with serious occupation, for I had nothing of the coquette 
in my disposition, though a good deal of the heroine of 
romance. I never could make light of the sorrows of the 
heart. My suitors were dismissed without the self-love of 
any being hurt by scorn or impertinence. One youth I 
could have loved ; the eldest brother of my school-friend, 
Miss Ann Cleaver. I met him in the year 1787, when I was 
on a visit at his father's house. His appearance was pre- 
possessing, his mind manly and ingenuous, and his manners 
pleasing. He had finished his Cambridge education, and 
was entered a student of law at the Inner Temple. I 
allowed him to ask my father's permission to pay his 
addresses to me. The displeasure he felt at my father's 
unfavorable reception of his proposals proved that he had 
more pride than tenderness of heart, and this enabled me to 
conquer my attachment and to acquiesce without a murmur in 
my father's better judgment. 

[In the same page that tells of her young " passages of love," 
our mother tells also of her deep sympathy with its fictitious 
woes in her first reading of " The Sorrows of Werther."] 

This touching book fell into my hands (while staying 
2 



26 A UTOBIO GEAPHY. 

witli the Forster family at York) on the morning of the 
day on which I was going to my first ball. I had antici- 
pated as much delight as girls commonly do from this event, 
but my swollen eyes, red with weeping, and my grief for 
TVerther and Charlotte, obliged me to give up the ball. 
I never cared enough for dress to make much impression 
in a ball-room, neither did I at all excel in dancing. My 
pleasure was in the conversation of an agreeable partner. 
I never was gratified by complimentary admiration of my 
personal attractions ; vanity lay in another corner of my 
heart. I ambitiously desired to be distinguished for mental 
superiority, and had no objection to a little sentimental flir- 
tation, though I do not remember ever wishing to inspire a 
passion for the sake of conquest. 

At the balls given during the Lent Assizes at York, my 
uncle Hill 'used to take a great charge of my dancing with 
proper partners, and generally introduced to me some of 
his younger brethren at the Bar, whom I found better 
educated and more conversable than the young men I was 
in the habit of meeting at the Yoi"k evening parties. It 
was at one of these parties, however, at Mr. Forster's, that 
I had the long-wished-for gratification of seeing the poet 
Mason. He was then Precentor of the Cathedral. Many 
a time had I walked before his door in the Minster Yard, 
to get a peep of the author of Elfrida and Caractacus. 
But to be in the same room with him, to watch his counte- 
nance, and hear him speak, the anticipation was delightful ! 
I figured him an interesting-looking man worn with deep 
affliction, for I had read his beautiful " Monody " on his wife, 
who died at Bristol of consumption. But when he entered 
Mrs. Forster's di-awing-room, what was my surprise to see 
a little fat old man of hard-favored countenance squat him- 
self down at a card-table, and give his whole attention to a 
game at whist ! 



HAPPY HIGHLAND TOUR. 27 

[It was in the year previous to this, before her taste of the 
gaieties and incidents of the "York Lent Assizes," that our 
mother made her first acquaintance with the land north of the 
Tweed, and with the English highlands of our Lake district, 
those places of her habitation in most of her after-years of 
life.] 

In the summer of 1786 my kind father indulged me 
with an excursion to the Highlands of Scotland. I had 
my choice either to go for six weeks to London or to 
Scotland ; I chose the latter. I was much attached to 
Miss Stewart, a young lady who had married the year before 
(from the Manor School) Mr. Meliss, a gentleman of Perth, 
her native place. This and some romantic associations with 
Scottish scenery decided my choice. My uncle William 
Dawson, my cousin John, and I, set out on this excursion 
on the 23d of July, and after a visit of three weeks to my 
friend Mrs. Meliss at Rosemount, a pretty villa near Perth, 
where I witnessed much domestic happiness and received 
much kindly hospitality, we proceeded through Perthshire 
and Argyllshire by the ordinary tourist route, and, return- 
ing by the Westmoreland and Cumberland lakes, we com- 
pleted our expedition by the 5th of October, on which day 
we returned to Oxton. 

My taste for and enjoyment in picturesque scenery 
were much increased by this journey. From Bamborough 
Castle, on the coast of Northumberland, I first saw the sea. 
It was on a tempestuous day, and the foaming surge and 
roaring billows of the German Ocean astonished and 
affected me. I have never looked on the sea since with- 
out a recurrence of the same emotion of dread, which 
philosophers consider the source of the sublime. It would 
be impossible for me ever to feel familiar with the sea ; I 
have no feeling of happiness connected with it. I was 
greatly struck with the noble situation of Edinburgh, and 



28 A UTO BIO GRAPH Y. 

interested in the historical associations of the place, but 
we did not then know any one there. The frankness and 
urbanity of Scottish manners were very agreeable to me. 
I was not discriminating enough to be a good judge of 
character, or refined enough to be fastidious. I had no 
very high standard of manners, but I returned gratefully 
impressed with much personal kindness. I had an unaf- 
fected wish to please. This feeling was, I think, com- 
pounded of benevolence and a great desire of approbation. 
I never could flatter or say what I did not think ; but I 
was disposed to think well of others. I had no turn for 
ridicule, no very quick perception perhaps of the ludicrous, 
no jiride, I think, or assumption above others ; but I had 
plenty of vanity, and great — much too great — desire for 
the estimation of others. If it had been the estimation of 
the good and the wise only, it would have been a desire 
that all rational beings ought to have ; but I was more 
voracious, and less discriminating in my love of approba- 
tion. 

This delightful Highland tour filled my mind with many 
new thoughts, both respecting scenery, national character 
and manners, and various subjects, which a wider field of 
observation afforded. I was then sixteen ; and for my 
father's amusement I kept a journal of each day's adven- 
tures. This was afterwards transcribed in a book, which 
held a favored place in my father's book-case, and yet 
now-a-days a very ordinary girl of sixteen would be 
ashamed to write so bald, so affected, and so absurd a 
narrative of 9. six weeks' tour in S,cotland; I could sit 
down and laugh at it from beginning to end, there is so 
much attempt at fine writing in it, — a thing never thought 
of now, I presume, by a girl of sixteen. It abounds in 
the bad taste of the time ; it is a sort of " sentimental 
journey." My fondly indulgent father, however, and all 



RESISTANCE TO OPPRESSION. 



29 



my little family circle, were delighted with it, and thus my 
love of approbation " grew by what it fed on." 

[This judgment, often pronounced by our mother's later- 
formed self-knowledge on her early self, was doubtless true ; 
but quite as true was it that an earnest benevolence, that best 
natural antidote to the poison of selfish vanity, was as much a 
part of her nature as the love of approbation. She knew that 
her love of doing good was far stronger than her desire to be 
thanked or praised for it. This love grew with her growth, 
from an impulsive sentiment into a working habit, a principle 
of her life. The next two notices in her own words, relating 
to incidents of this or the following year, are very charac- 
teristic] 

It was about this time that I read somewhere of a dis- 
pute between Mrs. Hannah More and Ann Yearsley, the 
Bristol milkwoman. The poor woman's "narrative" 
struck me as having a strong claim on the reader's 
sympathy. It appeared that after Mrs. Hannah More had 
introduced her to the public, by a very high and eloquent 
eulogium on her genius and her virtue (in a letter addressed 
to the celebrated Mrs. IMontague), she quarrelled with 
Mrs. Yearsley for her requesting to have the uncontrolled 
disposal of the interest ohiy of the money which, chiefly 
through Mrs. Hannah More's influence, had been raised by 
subscription for her poems. Mrs. Yearsley had readily 
agreed that the principal sum, about £350, should be 
vested in the funds for the benefit of her family, under the 
trusteeship of Mrs. Hannah More and Mrs. Montague. 
Mrs. Yearsley's "narrative" made a great impression on 
me. I thought it showed a case of direct attempt by the 
strong to oppress the weak. My father and all our little 
household sympathized in this feeling, and, authorized by 
my father, I wrote to Mrs. Yearsley, offering to collect 
subscriptions for her new volume of poems advertised for 



30 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

publication. Mrs. Yearsley, who had been highly irritated 
by what she conceived to be Mrs. Hannah More's in- 
justice, received the offered assistance of a stranger with 
exaggerated, but I believe sincere expressions of joy and 
gratitude. I enlisted with all the zeal of partisanship, 
as well as the feelings of justice and benevolence, in her 
behalf, and seldom had I felt more delighted than when 
my father put a £50 bank-note into my hands to give 
immediate help to the Bristol milkwoman in bringing out 
her poems. This sum was nearly replaced by the five 
hundred subscribers I obtained for her. She afterwards 
addressed some complimentary verses to me in that volume, 
and not being then much given to the practice of self- 
examination, I dare say I was not aware how much of 
vanity and self-love mixed with better feelings in my 
patronage of Mrs. Yearsley. The correspondence with this 
remarkable woman afforded me much interest for several 
years, and I carefully preserved her letters. When, in the 
spring of 1834, I visited Bristol and Clifton for the first 
time, I tried in vain to trace any vestige of her or her 
family. 

It was in his generous indulgence, and sympathy in 
such impulses as these, that I felt my father's kindness 
so deeply. It was about the same time that he encouraged 
me in my strenuous exertions to save a poor friendless 
girl from vice and misery. When on a visit to my friend 
Miss Beckwith at Ripon, as we were on our way together 
to attend as visitors at a Sunday School, we observed, 
through a grated window of the lock-up house, the face of 
a modest-looking girl not above seventeen years of age. 
She looked very sorrowful. In answer to our inquiries, 
she said that, on her way from Sunderland to join her 
mother in London, she fell into company with two other 
poor travellers, a man and his wife, and accompanied them 



ELIZABETH ANTHONY AND SARAH WATSON. 31 

to a beggar's lodging-house in Ripon, where they committed 
a theft, and she, being with them, was committed to take 
her trial along with them at the Quarter-Sessions. There 
was so much apparent artlessness in her story that my 
friend and I interested ourselves deeply in her fate. Her 
name was Elizabeth Anthony. She was acquitted of 
participation in the theft, and her companions were sent 
for six weeks to the House of Correction. A respectable 
service was obtained for her by Mr. Beckwith in a farmer's 
family near Ripon, and my friend and I had the satisfaction 
to think that we had saved the poor girl frona ruin. "What 
was our disappointment to find, six weeks afterwards, 
that she had absconded from the farmer's service, and had 
taken the road to York with her former companions when 
liberated from prison ! My friend Ann Cleaver was stay- 
ing with me when I received this grievous intelligence. 
At once we mounted on horseback, and full of Quixotic 
enthusiasm we rode full canter to York, where we pre- 
vailed on a good man to search all the mendicant lodging- 
houses for our fugitive. He found her, and brought her 
to our inn. Again she imposed on us by saying that her 
quondam friends had frightened her into leaving her good 
master's service by telling-^her that they would set fire to 
his . barn if she refused to accompany them. We credu- 
lously believed her, and again found, in the house of 
Mr. Potter of Tadcaster, a respectable service, and a kind 
roof to shelter her. But " a-begging she would go," and 
although most kindly treated in Mr. Potter's family, she 
again absconded, without however committing any theft or 
breach of trust in either of the families who had given her 
shelter. 

[One of our mother's favorite heroines in humble life belong- 
ing to this period was a person of the name of Sarah Watson, 
who lived in the village of Grimstone, near Tadcaster, where I 



3 2 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 

often saw her as an old woman. I well remember the respect- 
ful and affectionate manner my mother had towards her, when 
she took us to her cottage on a fine summer evening during 
one of our visits to Tadcaster, when we were children. On 
our walk home across the fields, she told us that Sarah had, in 
her youth, when they first knew each other, been a single 
servant in a clergyman's family of small means ; that the 
master of the house was killed by an accident, and left his wife 
in great poverty and some debt. Sarah, who had married a 
laborer, took a cottage and fitted up her best room with all 
the comforts she could collect from her mistress's old home, and 
which she would much have missed, moved her into it, and 
waited upon her for years, as she had been accustomed to do, 
but without any remuneration ; showing her more respect than 
ever, and bearing all the irritability of illness and age with the 
utmost gentleness and forbearance. Sarah had one child, which 
died young; and in the cottage on that fine summer evening, 
I remember there was a little chair with a large Bible on it. 
I have still a distinct impression of that cottage, its beautifu-1 
cleanhness and comfort, the roses about the open lattice, the 
little chair and the Bible on it, the grave refined look of the 
venerable Sarah, — and then the history of her beautiful self- 
devotion, related to us as we walked home, in the glowing words 
we loved best to hear. All this made an impression on us that 
no written annals could have done. It was a remembrance of 
her own youth that she conveyed to us, as the history of Ruth 
might have been related in the walks at eventide of a Hebrew 
mother ; and such histories of goodness and mercy sink deep 
into the hearts of children. We afterwards heard in our visits 
to Sarah (which continued to be one of the pleasures of our 
Tadcaster life so long as she lived) that our mother had thrown 
her loving energies into this village history at the time it 
occurred, and had assisted Sarah to collect the articles of 
furniture which were essential to the comfort of her old 
mistress. It was evident to those who saw them together 
that there was a link of old remembrance and regard between 
them which broke down all the barriers of condition and made 
them feel as friends living in the presence of a loving Father. 
"Where our mother recognized the presence of God's spiiit in 



FIEST MEETING WITH MR. FLETCHER. 33 

others, the humility of her own nature appeared in a remark- 
able degree and gave a deferential grace to her manner quite 
apart from the ordinary courtesy of society. One of the say- 
ings of her old friend, Mr. Clowes, early entered her soul, and 
expressed what she felt to be a great happiness to herself to 
exercise and cultivate in others : "To delight in good is the 
temper and disposition of angels."] 

My good old grandmother died in the winter of 1787, an 
event all her grown-up sons, and her only daughter, felt 
deeply at the. time, and none of the family more than my- 
self ; for, with many infirmities of temper, she had a noble 
generosity of heart, and had always treated me with most 
affectionate indulgence. It was a little later in the same 
year that a circumstance occurred upon which perhaps 
hinged the futui-e condition and happiness of my life. 

In the spring of 1787 Mrs. Meliss wrote to tell me that 
her husband, who had become a zealous burgh reformer, 
was going as a delegate from Perth to attend before a 
Committee on Burgh Reform in the House of Commons, 
along with a distinguished Scottish patriot, Mr. Archibald 
Fletcher, of Edinburgh, who had written "The Principles 
of the Bill for Scottish Bur^lx Reform," now to be brought 
into the House of Commons, and that, if I chose, she would 
accompany the travellers as far as Oxton. Nothing could 
exceed my satisfaction on receiving this intelligence. I 
had very dim and imperfect notions concerning politics, 
but during the American war I had caught many liberal 
opinions from my father, and my grandfather, and uncle 
Hill, all of whom detested the arbitrary and unjust prin- 
ciples of that war, by which England lost her colonies 
in North America ; and from the admiration General 
Washington's conduct excited, and the estimation in which 
Sir George Savile's character was held, I had conceived the 
loftiest opinion of a disinterested lover of his country, and 
2* c. 



34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

my curiosity was strongly awakened to see the reformer in 
whose praise my friend Mrs. Meliss wrote in such glowing 
terms. The party from Scotland arrived some time in 
April, 1787. Mr. Fletcher was then about forty-three, of 
a grave, gentleman -like, prepossessing appearance. There 
was an expression of intelligence and benevolence in his 
countenance, with great mildness and gentleness of man- 
ners. I was flattered by the pleasure he seemed to take in 
conversing with me. I remember that the conversation 
turned much on Ossian's Poems. He was a great admirer 
of the works ascribed to the Celtic bard, and, to a certain 
extent, a believer in their authenticity, having heard several 
of them (or poems of the same description) recited in his 
youth, before Macpherson translated and gave them to 
the world in their present form. Mrs. Brudenell gave a 
little musical party at her cottage to our Scottish friends. 
She always contrived to give these simple entertainments 
a tasteful and elegant appearance. At the end of three 
days the reformers left us to pursue their route to London. 
I don't remember any impression of what is called love at 
first sight from this interview with Mr. Fletcher, but it 
would appear that I had made some impression of this 
sort on his mind. Mr. Meliss wrote to his wife that his 
companion could think and talk of nothing but Miss Daw- 
son. Mr. Meliss returned some time sooner than his friend, 
and brought me a handsome copy of Ossian's Poems from 
Mr. Fletcher, with a letter containing some critical re- 
marks upon them, and a request that I would honor him 
with a letter to say how I liked the work. My vanity 
was flattered by the respect paid to my opinion ; some 
letters passed between us, and though the correspondence 
was confined to literary subjects, I found it extremely in- 
teresting. Some time afterwards I remember to have felt 
somewhat piqued and mortified to find that Mr. Fletcher 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS DEEPENED. 35 

had passed through Tadcaster, on his way northwards, 
without so much as calling at Oxton. On explaining how 
this happened, it appeared that he had, with two com- 
panions, arrived at Tadcaster at twelve o'clock at night, 
had taken a chaise to Oxton, and had walked round and 
round my father's house, in the dead of night, without 
daring to disturb the family, and had then returned to the 
inn at Tadcaster to be ready to set out with his compan- 
ions early next morning for Scotland. I was not displeased 
with the romance of this incident, but I thought if he had 
cared much about seeing me he -would have contrived to 
accomplish it. This was not the disappointment of one who 
loved, but of one who fancied that she was more beloved 
than she now appeared to be. There was some interrup- 
tion to our correspondence: it languished on my side. 

In the spring of 1788 Mr. Fletcher again paid us a short 
visit at Oxton. He was accompanied by the Hon. John 
Douglas, afterwards Earl of Selkirk, who was also a burgh 
reformer, and they were on their way to attend the Parlia- 
mentary Committee on that subject in London. On his 
return from town in June we had removed from Oxton to 
a house in Tadcaster ; and I do remember that when I 
received his note from the^ inn, saying that he would do 
himself the honor to call and spend the evening with us, 
I did resort to the toilette to curl my hair with rather more 
care than usual. I was more struck even than before with 
the good sense and good taste of his conversation, and much 
interested in his animated account of the splendid speeches 
he had heard at Westminster Hall, at the trial of Warren 
Hastings. My own mind had perhaps made some advance 
in knowledge and reflection, and I enjoyed this visit more 
than I had done before. The correspondence, which had 
grown languid on my part, was resumed with more spirit, 
but was still confined to literary and general subjects. 



36 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

In the summer of the same year, while visiting Doncaster 
in the company of two Scotch acquaintances, a Mr. and 
Mrs. Anderson, who went to place their only daughter at 
a boarding-school at that place, I accidentally became 
acquainted with the Eev. Edmund Cartwright,^ who had 
lately published " A Legendary Tale, Armine and Elvira," 
along with some other poems of considerable merit. Mrs. 
Anderson was a great proficient in music. We- had accom- 
panied some ladies at Doncaster, whose names I now forget, 
to see the old church there, and Mrs. Anderson was allowed 
to play some sacred music on the organ. While she was so 
employed I was struck with a simple and elegant inscrip- 
tion to the memory of Mrs. Cartwright, the wife of the 
Rev. Edmund Cartwright. I asked if that was the poet. 
I had no sooner asked the question than I was introduced 
to that gentleman, who, attracted by the music, had strolled 
into the church. He was a grave-looking man, considerably 
turned of forty, of very gentle and engaging manners. He 
was acquainted with the family with whom we had spent 
the day, and he accompanied us to their house to pass 
the evening, and next day he took us to see some power- 
looms of his invention, — set to work, not by steam or water, 
but by a large wheel turned by an ox. We dined that 
day with Mr. Cartwright, and were all much pleased with 
the good taste, animation, and variety of his conversational 
talents. We proceeded next day to Matlock, promising him 
another visit on our return from that place. At Matlock 
and Buxton I had some opportunity of mixing in more 
miscellaneous society than I had been accustomed to. I 
was not insensible to the admiration I met with, buc it was 
not of a kind to gratify or interest me ; and much as I 
admired the natural beauty of the scenery about Matlock, 
and marvelled at the wonders of the great cavern in the 
1 Mr. Cartwright was also the inventor of the power-loom. 



EEV. E. CARTWRIGHT'S FRIENDSHIP. 37 

Peak of Derbyshire, I wearied of the heartless frivolity of 
watering-place society, and longed to return to my affec- 
tionate and happy home. Mrs. Brudenell had by this time 
become an inmate of my father's family, and though subject 
to irritability of temper from bad health and a life of dis- 
appointment, she was always affectionate and sympathizing, 
or lively and amusing. The very limited society of a small 
country town did not compensate to us for that quietness 
and repose we had enjoyed at Oxton, but we were so united 
and attached a family that no place was so dear to me as 
home. 

My second visit to Mr. Cartwright confirmed our 
mutual prepossessions. He soon distinguished me with 
his friendship; and, in the autumn of that year, I think, 
he brought his gifted friend the Rev. George Crabbe, and 
his amiable wife, to pay me a visit. I accompanied them 
all three to York Minster, and at the distance of half a 
century I have still a vivid recollection of the gratification 
I then enjoyed in the society of such elegant and culti- 
vated minds. Mr. Crabbe made me a present of his 
"Village Library," and "Newspaper," two poems which 
had been printed in quarts separately by Dodsley, in St. 
Paul's Churchyard, the former in 1783, the latter in 1785. 
I continued to correspond with Mr. Crabbe for several 
years, and had the honor of being godmother to his 
second son, now the Eev John Crabbe. Mr. Cartwright 
placed his two eldest daughters, Mary and Eliza, at the 
Manor School of York, and they sometimes spent part of 
their holidays with me at Tadcaster. His correspondence 
was considered by me as a great privilege. He honored 
me with his confidence and friendship so far as to wish 
me to become the mother of his five amiable children by 
uniting my fate to his. I had not confidence in my own 
worthiness for such a trust, but in refusing it, I neither 



38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

forfeited his good opinion nor his friendship. In the 
winter of 1788 he introduced me to his excellent friend 
Mr. Woodison, the learned and amiable Professor of Law 
at Oxford (the successor of Sir William Blackstone), with 
whom Mr. Cartwright had been a fellow-student at Mag- 
dalen College. Mr. Woodison was a man of singular 
modesty and refinement of manners ; so diffident of his 
own merits that he inspired diffidence in others, not of his, 
but of their own pretensions. This sensibility of tempera- 
ment was to him, I believe, a source of much disquietude, 
in the active and busy life of a professional lawyer in 
London. He was, in truth, better fitted to be a Lecturer 
in a University than a Wrangler in Westminster Hall. I 
was occasionally honored with his correspondence from 
our first acquaintance till the time of his death, which 
happened, I think, in 1806 or 1807. 

[Her intercourse with Mr. Cartwright and the chosen friends 
to whom he introduced her never was recurred to in after-fife 
by our mother without warm interest, grateful interest, such 
as we can well believe was called forth in her young days by 
the opening thus given her for observing new aspects of life, 
and for an interchange of thought much above that which an 
ordinary country town affords. And with her, at this as at 
all times, such variety from the usual current of home fife 
might be as safely as it was heartily enjoyed. No home 
languor or unneighborly fastidiousness followed from that 
contact with "metal more attractive" which she might 
occasionally find elsewhere. We can all testify from our 
earliest childhood how habitually she practised the sentiment 
of a favorite quotation — "The joy of seeing is to tell." We 
are very sure that it was so then, and that the home she 
loved so dearly was always the brighter on her return by 
what she gained when away from it. Meantime she found or 
fastened life friendships in the place of her habitation. The 
nearness at this time to her grandfather and aunts Hill, whose 
hoiise, "The Grange," stood in a pleasant field on the left 



RECOLLECTIONS OF JOHN WESLEY. 39 

bank of the Wharfe, edging close to the town of Tadcaster, 
Tbrought her more into daily intercourse with them than 
formerly, and with the youngest of the three sisters especially, 
whose influence henceforth became a telling one. The stately 
maiden aunt, who for lack of indulgent tenderness had no 
attraction for her love as a child, had much in her to draw 
out admiring regard when advanced tastes were to be met and 
ministered to. She read more than was common with ladies 
of her date; and though her reading was desultory enough, 
ranging without any plan from "Baker's Chronicles" ("the 
nearest " approach to a story-book, she used to tell us, that 
came within the children's reach in their father's house in her 
child days) up to the " Emile " and the " Nouvelle Heloise " 
of Rousseau, and down (if we may so speak) to Mrs. Trimmer's 
"Economy of Charity," — the three latter books were almost 
equally her favorites at the time now mentioned, — an in- 
stinctive taste for the noble and the practical at once, had 
always led her to make her mind's food and possession out of 
the best quality to be found in her somewhat curious variety 
of book-companionship. But even more than her love of 
books did her habitual practice of wise benevolence to the 
poor meet the growing earnestness of our mother's growing 
character, helping much at this time to strengthen in her a 
value for the " good of uses,*' according to a phrase of old 
Cotton Mather, which auijt— Mary Hill often quoted, and to 
deepen her sense of this large part of life's highest purpose. 

We have often wished that our mother could have told us 
more from her own local observation of that great awakening 
of religious life in England in which the founders of Methodism 
bore so large a part. As an era in our country's history, no 
one regarded it with higher interest in after-life than she, and 
not a few members of the Methodist community were at all 
times objects of her loving honor ; but the phase of faith in 
her own home could not well assimilate with Methodism. 
Her father's joyous temperament repudiated the gloom he 
often saw associated with early convictions in followers of the 
new sect. His old English churchmanship made him im- 
patient of long extempore prayers and sermons outstepping all 
accustomed limits, and the wild extravagance often attendant 



40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

on the new services either disturbed his love of order or 
furnished matter for his ready mirth. Mrs. Brudenell, from 
somewhat like taste and temper of mind, agreed with him 
fully, and aunt Dawson was at all times more given to doing 
for than differing from those about her. All three were alike 
incapable of bitterness in their hostility ; but, on the whole, 
the household tone was more that of mistrust than of charity 
as to the genuineness or worth of Methodist pretensions. Our 
mother had a very early but quite distinct recollection of 
having gone once from Oxton with her grandmother to hear 
John Wesley preach in the parish church of Tadcaster, then 
(in consequence of the favorable dispositions of the Vicar) not 
closed against him. The venerable beauty of his look never 
was forgotten by any one who saw him ; the subject of his 
sermon — the alarming advance of luxury in England — was 
doubtless fixed in her memory by one illustration, which she 
used to report to us, given on the preacher's own experience, 
viz. , ' ' that in his young days his mother used to make one 
apple serve for the family dumpling, whereas he found that 
many apples were used for that purpose to satisfy the tastes 
of the children of the time in which he then addressed them." 
Wesley died in 1791, at a vei'y advanced age ; and at the 
time now spoken of, many of his early helpers must have gone 
before their master to the grave. The machinery of Methodism 
was complete, and at Tadcaster it was in very active exercise ; 
but probably much of the living interest and fervor spread 
abroad in almost every part of our land by its first teachers 
had evaporated. It was, at all events, not from this " adminis- 
tration " of revealed truth that ovir mother received, as she has 
noted in the following passage, those views of the Christian 
message which wei'e through life her abiding ones.] 

It was in the winter of 1788 that I met, at the house 
of the Misses Hutton (two excellent maiden ladies) at 
Tadcaster, the Rev John Clowes, Rector of St. John's 
Church, in Manchester. The bond between these pious 
and primitive old ladies and Mr. Clowes was, I believe, 
their mutual admiration of the writings of Emanuel 



CONVERSATION OF THE REV. J. CLOWES. 41 

Swedenborg. Although I could not participate in their 
enthusiasm for that visionary writer, I think it was from 
Mr. Clowes's conversation and writings that I first became 
interested in the spiritual sense of true religion, or, in 
other woi'ds, felt its experimental truth ; and I wish here 
to preserve the following transcript of the conversation 
which I made from memory after passing the evening with 
Mr. Clowes at Miss Hutton's. Several ladies, some of 
the Methodist persuasion, were present. His views have 
always appeared to me to contain much of the true spirit 
of Christianity. 

Being asked his opinion of Mr. Law's ' woi'ks, Mr. Clowes 
said, " I read them, madam, with great diligence and much 
affection, and I found that they tended to produce a pure, 
holy, and peaceable frame of mind, but I found likewise 
that they disqualified a man for the duty of his calling. I 
could not even go to perform my duty in the church with- 
out finding something to disturb me. This made me con- 
jecture that all was not right in Mr. Law's doctrine, and I 
conceive it to be this : that it is admirably suited for the 
contemplative but not for the active life of man, inasmuch 
as it does not bring the oiitward man into entire subjec- 
tion to the inner man, for man has two lives, or two 
beings, in his very best state while on earth." 

Speaking of regeneration, Mr. Clowes said he conceived 
the vision of Jacob's ladder to afford a beautiful figure on 
this subject, and that we should do well to consider that 
the descent was a much more difficult and arduous task 
than the ascent. The ascent was the desire of knowledge, 
or the love of truth, which made us climb the ladder, that 
we might know God and the things of His kingdom ; but 
when we have reached the top of the ladder it will avail 
us nothing unless the love-jprinciple, or the love of good, 
1 Author of " Serious Call." 



42 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 

descend with us, jDenetrate to the very bottom of our hearts, 
and purge them of all unclean affections, so that the natural 
man should act under entire subordination to, and entire 
conjunction with, the spiritual man. Thus is the descent 
much more ditficult than the ascent, as it is said, " And he 
dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the 
top of it reached to heaven ; and behold the angels of God 
ascending and descending on it." 

Asking him how we should know that we were in a safe 
state without deceiving ourselves, he said, " Let us carefully 
examine what is our delight. If our delight be in good, 
then may we certainly conclude that our state is safe, because 
all good is from God and the things of His kingdom." 

When asked what he conceived to be the state of the 
blessed, he replied, in a calm but animated tone of voice, 
" I conceive the state of the blessed to be a total forgetful- 
ness or absence of self, and to consist in beholding the 
good and happiness of others, so that every individual will 
enjoy the whole happiness of heaven." He afterwards 
said, " It was a princijjle in the old law, that if any man 
should kill his neighbor unawares, he might abide for a 
time in the ' City of Refuge.' This he conceived a beauti- 
ful figure to represent the mercy of God. We often 
engaged in action from a jjrinciple of good, but in the per- 
formance of it were overtaken unawares by some evil or 
uncharitable inclination. The good principle which at 
first operated was from God, and this is the city of refuge 
in which we may abide until the enemy which thwarted 
us is overcome." He added, " The state of man is a state 
of absolute dependence upon God, and the most desirable 
frame of mind is that in which the Psalmist saith, ' I am 
poor and needy, but the Lord careth for me.' " 

Being asked what was meant by justifying faith, he 
said, " It is to be feared many deceive themselves in this 



CONVERSATION OF THE REV. J. CLOWES. 43 

matter. It is dangerous to rest our salvation on the bare 
belief of the death and sufferings of our Lord. That is 
indeed resting in the first attainments of religion. Belief 
enlightens the understanding, but it is love which regulates 
the affections and produces obedience to the commands of 
God, without which no man can enter into the kingdom of 
glory. Works are not in themselves meritorious, but as 
being tests of obedience, for without works the spiritual 
world would stagnate." 

" I conceive," he said, " that the great evil of life arises 
from a contempt of others in comparison with self. A 
strict and resolute self-examination, therefore, and sup- 
plication for Divine assistance, will enable us to expel this 
evU, for evil affections must be expelled before we can 
receive good ones. Who would put lambs among wolves ? " 
On being asked if he thought fear and doubt of the 
favor of God consistent with true faith, he said, " Most 
certainly; for it is impossible to arrive at any degree of 
favor with God but by the state of deep and sincere 
humiliation, which produces fear and doubt, and which 
proceeds from a clear conception of the beauty and holiness 
of the Lord's kingdom. TMs is, perhaps, the best state 
man can be in, because while he is under the influence of 
these fears he will be continually laboring to grow better, 
and be continually dependent on God for grace and favor. 
This is the cross which we must all bear if we would be 
followers of the Lamb and partakers of His kingdom. 
We are commanded not to resist evil, for the fierce and 
violent spu'it of opposition which this resistance would 
demand is hurtful to us. When evil assailments come, 
our only security is in our dependence upon God. He 
will give us strength to overcome evil, though we should 
perish in attempting to resist it. Every man is according 
to his own desire, for assuredly the Lord wills the good and 



44 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

happiness of all His creatures. If a man say he desires 
to be better, and that he is unhappy because his desire is 
not fulfilled, let not that man be impatient ; he has begun 
to bear his cross, and if he bears it patiently, humbly wait- 
ing for a better state, he will certainly obtain his desire. 
The good he did, because he saw it was commanded, will 
soon be his delight ; and to delight in good is the temper 
and disposition of, angels." 

I renewed my acquaintance with this truly pious and 
amiable man twenty years afterwards, when on a visit to 
Miss Kennedy at Manchester, in 1808. He was much 
beloved and honored by the large congregation of St. 
John's Church, Manchester ; and when he had been fifty 
years their rector, they erected in that church a marble 
tablet, with a design and inscription expressive of the 
affection of his flock towards him, and of their gratitude 
for his labors of love in the promotion of Sunday Schools, 
and in the moral and religious education of the poor. 
Soon afterwards he removed, on account of his state of 
health, to Warwick, where 1 saw him again in 1829. He 
told me that he was then in his 84th year, — employed in 
translating the Psalms from the Hebrew, and that his 
motive for such undertaking was " to control the activity 
of his thoughts, and to give them a profitable direction." 

In the spring of 1789 my father allowed me to accom- 
pany Mr. and Mrs. "Wright, of Lawton, in Perthshire (who 
had come to place their eldest daughter at school at York), 
to pay a second visit to my friend Mrs. Meliss, in the 
neighborhood of Perth. On our way through Edinburgh 
I called on Mr. Fletcher at his lodgings in Parliament 
Square, along with Mr. and Mrs. Wi'ight. His servant 
told us that he was at the General Assembly. We left 
our Edinburgh address — Captain Inglis, George Square ; 
and in the evening Mr. Fletcher joined us there, and 



VISIT TO PERTH. 45 

accompanied us on horseback next morning part of tlie way 
to the Queen's Ferry, but was obliged to leave us to attend 
his duty in the General Assembly of the Church, of which 
he was an elder, and where he was then most warmly en- 
gaged in supporting the claims of Professor Dalzel to be 
Clerk of the Assembly. I meantime proceeded with Mr. and 
Mrs. Wright to Perth, and took up my residence again at 
the house of my friends Mr. and Mrs. Meliss, at their pleas- 
ant villa of Rosemount, near that place. My impressions 
of the hospitality, kindness, and superior information of the 
Scotch, in comparison with those of the same rank in Eng- 
land, were confirmed by my second visit to Scotland. As soon 
as his engagements admitted of his leaving Edinburgh, Mr. 
Fletcher came to pay a visit at Mr. Meliss's, and then the 
opportunity of conversing much together confirmed the at- 
tachment he had entertained for me from our first acquaint- 
ance in 1787, and converted the sentiments of respect and 
high esteem I had felt for him into those of a tenderer nature. 
I thought I had never met with a person of such real eleva- 
tion of mind, and such independence and worth of character ; 
and a happy union of thirty-seven years as his wife served 
to confirm me in that opinion. It was agreed that he 
should come to Harrogate in/llie autumn of that year, and 
from thence pay us a visit, when he had my permission to 
make his wishes known to my father. In the mean time 
we were to correspond as friends, as we had formerly 
done. His letters were always shown to my father ; and 
perhaps a person much versed in the language of the heart 
might have discovered more in them than the lectures of 
a philosopher or the epistles of a friend. The autumn 
arrived, however, and the eclaircissement was made. My 
father positively opposed the union. We were willing to 
wait till he thought Mr. Fletcher's circumstances justi- 
fied the prudence of it. But no ! — my kind, fond, and 



46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

hitherto most indulgent father had formed splendid ex- 
pectations for the child on whom he doted. He could 
not think of parting with me to such a distance. He could 
not think of my marrying a man altogether without 
fortune, and where there was so great a disparity of years, 
— one, too, who had made no provision for a family. 
These were sound and rational objections. I admitted 
that they were so, and I promised to remam unmarried; 
but I felt that I had so far encouraged Mr. Fletcher's 
attachment, that I could not, either with honor to him or 
satisfaction to myself, marry any other person. I was 
not, perhaps, what in the language of romance is called 
in love with Mr. Fletcher, but I was deeply and tenderly 
attached to him. He had inspired a confidence and regard 
I had never felt for any other man. I could not bear the 
thought of marrying in opposition to my father's will, but 
I was resolved on principle never to marry so long as Mr. 
Fletcher remained single. This did not satisfy my father. 
For the first time in his life he was unjust ; he attempted to 
effect that by authority which he had failed to accomplish 
by reason and kindness. He became stern and severe in 
his conduct towards me. This produced its necessary 
consequence — evasion and concealment. I received Mr. 
Fletcher's letters clandestinely. I was decidedly wrong in 
doing so ; but either I must have sacrificed Mr. Fletcher's 
happiness without satisfying my father's prejudices, or I 
must have continued the correspondence. I chose the 
latter, with the sincere intention of prevailing on Mr. 
Fletcher to give up the engagement, for it would then have 
been less painful to me to have done so than to have 
offended rny father. But I was unacquainted with the 
history of the human heart ; at the end of two years 1 
found that Mr. Fletcher had reasoned me into a conviction 
that it would be best for the interest and happiness of all 



VISIT TO RIP ON. 47 

parties that we should marry ; but my father's objections, 
though quite natural, were not founded in truth and justice, 
since he had nothing to object to in Mr. Fletcher's character 
or position in society. 

In the winter of 1789-90 I paid a visit to a friend at 
Ripon, — Mrs. Harrison, — and there became acquainted 
with Lord Grantley. He was then, I should think, border- 
ing on fifty, a man of insinuating address and of culti- 
vated taste and accomplishments. He distinguished me by 
marked attention, invited my father to accompany me to 
visit him and his mother at Grantley, and showed me a 
preference, which, had my heart been untouched and my 
faith unpledged, might, by flattering my vanity, have made 
some impression on my heart. But happily I had noth- 
ing of the coquette in my disposition, and the attentions 
of this nobleman, though flattering, were indifferent to me. 
I had, besides, no good opinion of his moral character, and 
in all the partialities and friendships I have had in life, 
either towards my own sex or the other, I never could 
found friendship on anything but solid esteem and moral 
approbation. I might be pleased or amused with, but I 
could not like, far less love, any one I did not thoroughly 
respect. Report and gossip, even so far as paragraphs in 
newspapers, gave my hand to Lord Grantley. Certainly 
he never asked me to do so in words ; his attentions were 
always delicate and respectful. He visited me frequently at 
my father's house, but I took care to save his pride by re- 
questing a mutual friend — Dr. Kilvington — to acquaint 
him with my engagement to Mr. Fletcher. From that time 
his visits to my father's house were discontinued. Mr. 
Fletcher was made acquainted by me with every visit 
this noble person paid me ; and I believe it was owing to 
my virtuous attachment to him that I was saved from 
sacrificing my happiness to a splendid but miserable fate. 



48 , AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Lord Gi^antley might, or he might not, have had serious 
intentions to make me an offer of marriage. Had I been 
free, it is possible that the vanity of my character might 
have led me to encourage his addresses. I never did so, 
however, but I perceived that my dear father was gratified 
to see me so distinguished ; and though he would never 
have consented to sacrifice me to a bad man, of any rank, 
had he known him to be such, he could scarcely persuade 
himself that one of that condition, who preferred his 
daughter, could be undeserving. My excellent aunt, and 
my attached friend, 'Mrs. Brudenell, pleaded my cause and 
Mr. Fletcher's with my father; still he remained inex- 
orable. My health began to suffer from the alienation of 
my father's confidence and kindness. My home was no 
longer cheerful or hapj^y. Since he would not be satisfied 
with my remaining unmarried, all my hope now was in his 
becoming reconciled to my marriage to one whom I was 
sure he would find worthy of my confidence, — and on the 
16th of July, 1791, I became the wife of Mr. Fletcher. 

[The marriage ceremony took place in Tadcaster church, 
and though her father did not sanction it by his presence, he 
did not on that day refuse a loving farewell to his child, nor 
did he refuse to see the husband to whom she had given herself 
with a rightly assured heart. " Be kind to her, sir, she has 
been tenderly brought up," were his parting words to him, as 
aunt Dawson used to tell us. Never were words lodged in a 
more faithful heart, or acted on more tenderly.] 

And here [our mother continues, after giving the date 
of her marriage] I am inclined to review the circumstances 
which had hitherto formed my character. My mother 
having died soon after giving me birth, that event gave a 
melancholy interest to my life from its very commencement. 
I became an object of the concentrated affections of all the 
family, and this acted in two ways — as a great stimulus to 



REFLECTIONS ON HER MARRIAGE. 49 

the desire of approbation and as a powerful means of culti- 
vating the kindly affections. I became early acquainted 
with the happiness of being tenderly beloved, and was 
reared and nourished by the "law of kindness." I was 
wholly governed by that law, and knew no other authority. 
I had no temptation to violate truth, because I was treated 
with openness and justice ; but so great was my fear of 
giving offence, that I remember, at four years old, to have 
pinned on the head of a beautiful tulip which I had in- 
advertently broken, and instead of frankly acknowledging 
the mischief I had done, I tried artfully to conceal it. My 
father's stern reproof at this little instance of deception 
and concealment made a deep impression on my mind. It 
was the first time I had done anything to forfeit his con- 
fidence, or to feel the disgrace of having acted a lie. The 
excessive pain his displeasure gave me, and the degradation 
of being convicted of meanness, made me thenceforward 
ready to confess my faults, and I was rewarded with the 
praise I dearly loved for being open and ingenuous. My 
religious education in childhood was simple and impressive. 
I was early taught to love God because He was good, and 
to desire to be good myself that I might not offend Him. 
My father's scriptural maxim, and that which he con- 
sidered the test of religion as well as morals, was " t-o do 
to others as we would be done unto." This sacred axiom 
formed my only code of morals. My father's life was an 
illustration of this principle. Much as I was praised, 
indulged, and excited, I never was suffered to domineer 
over or to act unjustly or unkindly towards others ; and I 
do think that the selfish passions were early curbed and 
brought into subjection by the example as well as precepts 
of those I lived with. As I was an object of much 
tenderness and affection, so nature and 'education gave me 
an affectionate and grateful disposition. I remember my 

3 D 



50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

friend, Dr. Kilvington, in writing to me once said, " I have 
known as beautiful, as attractive, and more witty young 
women, but I have never known any one so tenderly, and 
truly, and universally beloved as you are, and I believe it 
arises from your capacity of loving others." I had nothing 
satirical in my disposition, no wish to detract from, or to 
see others mortified. I had little merit in this, having, as 
I said before, no very quick perception of the ludicrous. 
I was sufficiently vain of my own good qualities, and 
sufficiently blinded by self-love to the defects of my own 
character ; but this did not lessen my respect for, or 
admiration of, the excellence of others. I never was 
tormented with any of the passions that belong to " the 
family of hatred." I was too easily provoked to anger, 
but it was momentary, and I almost instantly sought 
reconciliation when I had given offence. I had not been 
brought up in the school of fashion, which so sadly hardens 
the heart and limits the understanding. The great error 
of my education was, that it excited too great a desire for 
general approbation. This led to something like a love of 
display, and it cost me much in after life to conquer the 
mischief of this propensity. Mrs. Brudenell early culti- 
vated in me a high-toned and poetical turn of mind, and 
if vanity was mixed up with this feeling, it saved me from 
the vice of gossiping, from the love of finery, and other 
vulgar propensities. I had been a happy and indulged 
child in my father's house. I was going to enter on a new 
and a wider sphere of duties. "When leisure serves I will 
endeavor to set down faithfully how they were performed. 

\_From Mr. Fletcher, explanatory how Eliza Dawson acquired 
the name of Sophia in April 1787 : — 

"From repeated observation of the character of ray own 
mind, I think it is distinguished by some contradictions. Not 



ME. FLETCHERS LETTER IN 1787. 51 

incapable of submitting to dull and dry studies, it can also 
travel "with delight, even with romantic wildness, into the fields 
of fancy and imagination. No young lady with the warmest 
imagination ever read plays or novels with more pleasure or 
more avidity than I have always done, and still do. I take 
the keenest interest in the ideal characters I like, and conceive 
the hottest resentment against those whose manners I disap- 
prove. I am, in fact, agitated in the same manner as if I were 
acquainted and concerned with such persons in transactions in 
common life. 

" In 1779 or 1780 I was confined for many weeks to the 
house. I spent my time partly in reading novels. Among 
these there fell into my hands, I think for the first time, the 
beautiful novel of ' Tom Jones,' by Fielding. I was struck 
with its variety of incident, its striking delineation of character, 
and its inimitable manner of describing the secret springs of 
human conduct. Sophia was too beautiful and too brilliant a 
figure not to attract in a most peculiar manner my attention. 
I was astonished. Sophia, painted by the inimitable pencil of 
Fielding, was just the woman I desired to see. She was in 
every respect so. Her person, her manners, her sentiments, 
her disposition, were such as it was impossible not to admire. 
She never uttered a thought of which I did not cordially 
approve, nor disclosed a passion with which I did not instantly 
sympathize, and her manner^ of saying and doing everything 
was unspeakably graceful; the more surprising, too, that she 
never appeared to have been away from the house of her 
father, a country gentleman. In this lady, from almost the 
first moment I was introduced to her acquaintance, I took the 
warmest interest. I was perfectly uneasy when she was out 
of sight. I passed over parts of the book until I came to those 
parts where I was to be introduced to her company. In short, 
I loved Sophia with sincerity, and although I am ashamed 
almost to confess it, as it seems so ridiculously romantic, yet 
the truth is that this ideal Sophia made so deep an impression 
on my imagination that it never was effaced till the second or. 
third day of my visit (I know not yet whether to call it fatal 
or fortunate visit) at Oxton, in April 1787 ; and since you 
have desired me to tell why I have given you the name of 



52 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Sophia, you must excuse me if I relate the time and manner 
in which you completely erased from my mind every trace and 
impression of the ideal Sophia, who had been so long the 
object of my adoration, but whose place you have ever since 
occiipied with additional advantages. 

" You know I set out on my journey from Scotland to London 
in 1787, in company with your amiable friends, the Melisses 
of Perth, at a time when I was ignorant that such a person as 
Eliza Dawson existed in the world, far less that she was so 
very dangerous a personage as I have since found her to be. 
In the course of our journey I heard my agreeable fellow- 
travellers often mention the name of Eliza Dawson, with 
expressions of peculiar regard and esteem, but without saying 
anything of her person or accomplishments. I therefore paid 
little or no attention to the conversation, so far as respected 
her, and expecting to meet with nothing at Oxton (for I had on 
the road learned the name) that could either amuse or inform, 
I was exti'emely unwilling to go there at all, being very im- 
patient to push forward to London. Besides the pressing 
nature of our business, which was urgent and important, London 
— a new and great scene — presented to my imagination the 
strongest inducements to dispatch. I proposed to Meliss that 
I should wait at the inn at Tadcaster, or some other place, 
imtil he should leave Mrs. Meliss at Oxton, and that we should 
proceed to London as soon as possible ; but Meliss then told 
me, I think for the first time, that he intended to make a stay 
of some days at Oxton. I was surprised, and not a little dis- 
pleased, at this unexpected interruption. However I resolved, 
though with reluctance, to accompany my friends to Oxton, but 
not in the best humor. As I am rather irritable than sour, 
it soon went off, I believe before we reached Oxton, at least I 
am sui-e it did not continue long after. Mrs. Brudenell was 
there at tea ; she was the person who first engaged my atten- 
tion ; her frankness was uncommon, and soon removed any 
little remains of discontent I had felt at being stopped in my 
progress towards the metropolis. I knew the reserve of the 
Scotch character, I had heard much of the open frankness of 
the English ; Mrs. Brudenell, I thought, proved it to be true, 
and I was pleased without being surprised. Before I was au 



MR. FLETCHERS LETTER IN 1787. 53 

hour or two in the house I knew, I think, from this lady her- 
self, a great part of her history, though it was rather peculiar. 
For a long time she exclusively, or almost exclusively, occupied 
my attention and conversation. When she was gone (for I 
think she went away before supper), or when her discourse was 
exhausted, I had time to observe Miss Dawson, of whom I 
think I had not before taken the least notice, unless by once 
or twice glancing towards her, which produced no effect but a 
pretty strong curiosity to be better acquainted with her. We 
exchanged some words ; without any skill in physiognomy or 
pretending to apply its rules, I was soon pi-epossessed. The 
conversation proceeded. Miss Eliza gradually unfolded herself; 
she riveted my attention more completely than Mrs. Brude- 
nell had done. I listened with greater surprise and pleasure. 
I soon discovered in a beautiful form an elegance of mind and 
sentiment, and an easy gracefulness of manner, which I thought 
were not natural to the little village of Oxton. I began to be 
interested in Eliza ; I felt a very particular desire to sit beside 
her at supper, and I think I contrived to do it. I was still 
more and more pleased with her manner and conversation. 
Her easy affability was such that I think we were tolerably 
well acquainted before supper was done. Nothing could be 
more pleasing to me than Eliza^'s frankness — nothing more 
delightful than her elegant turn of manner and conversation, 
and the peculiar intelligence by which it was conducted. 
'There is,' I said to myself, 'something very uncommon 
about this girl ; I wonder Meliss never spoke of her in a more 
particular manner.' When the ladies retired after supper I 
felt an uneasy sensation, as if I had been deprived of something 
which contributed extremely to the pleasure of the company. I 
could not enjoy the company afterwards, though in any other 
circumstances it would, I think, have been agreeable, for it was 
distinguished by every mark of politeness and hospitality. 
Meliss went with me into my room, on which I instantly 
turned and said, rather peevishly (though surely that was 
absurd), ' Meliss, why did you never speak of Miss Dawson in 
a more particular manner on our journey ? or did you never 
discover anything superior about her ? ' Meliss laughed, and 
said he believed Mrs. Meliss wanted to surprise me. ' If that 



54 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

was her object,' said I, 'it is completely accomplished, for I 
never was more surprised in my lifetime.' Meliss again 
laughed, and maliciously asked me whether I wished to be off 
for London next morning. I bade him go to his bed, and I 
should think of that after I had slept. 

" I awoke next morning without the least desire to leave Oxton. 
My impatience to be in Loudon was greatly diminished. A few 
days sooner or later, I thought, did not signify much, and the 
state of our public business, though it was pressing, did not 
require absolutely that we should be in London on a precise 
day. All the anticipated enjoyments of London vanished. I 
became quite reconciled to a longer residence at Oxton. My 
only anxiety now was to see Eliza again in the morning, and I 
felt an irresistible desire to place myself beside her at break- 
fast. She appeared to still more advantage; I was indeed 
charmed. When breakfast was about over and I took a view 
of Eliza's form, manner, and conversation, the character of 
Sophia Western instantly flashed on my mind. The resem- 
blance was in every feature striking. I began from that 
moment to lose sight entirely of the ideal Sophia who had so 
long figured in my imagination, and to transfer the name, for 
which I had so peculiar a fondness, to Eliza Dawson. I 
mentioned the circumstance to Meliss. I baptized Eliza by 
the name of Sophia, to which I had ascribed every amiable 
quality. The more I became acquainted with Eliza, the more 
I was convinced of the truth of the resemblance between the 
two characters. I grew quite uneasy when Eliza was not 
present; I was unhappy if I did not sit beside her at table. 
The mind of Eliza every day gradually and occasionally unfolded 
itself with peculiar force as well as elegance. If I had found 
brilliants on the wild and rugged mountains among which I 
first drew my breath, I could not have been more surprised 
and delighted than I was by meeting such a person as Eliza. 
'Fielding,' said I, ' you have di-awn your heroine, it must be 
confessed, with a fine pencil, but here is in real life, at a little 
country village, a character every way equal, in some respects 
far superior. Without saying anything of external form, the 
mental accomplishments of Eliza Dawson are above those of 
the amiable and intelligent Sophia Western. You seem to 



MR. FLETCHERS LETTER IN 1787. 55 

think, Fielding, that knowledge of books is no ornament to a 
woman ; but had you known Eliza Dawson, you would have 
altered your opinion. She would " have taught you how 
compatible literary acquirements are with the most engaging 
feminine manners, and when so blended you would have seen 
how much they must contribute both to the ornament and 
the happiness of life." ' Such were my sentiments of Eliza 
Dawson, early adopted, and since confirmed by indubitable 
experience. 

" Every hour of my residence at Oxton increased my esteem 
for Eliza Dawson. I could not endure to call her by any other 
name than that of Sophia, so deeply fixed in my imagination 
was the resemblance between her and the ideal Sophia, with 
the advantage every way on her side. One incident had, 
however, one day piqued me not a little. I had been jDretty 
free of my censures on Pope's Translation of Homer, which 
unluckily had been a favorite with Sophia, but she listened 
with at least apparent satisfaction to what I had said. Some 
time afterwards, during our residence at Oxton, on conversing 
with Meliss on the subject of my criticisms on Pope, Meliss, 
without any design I believe, mentioned that Sophia, in 
allusion to my criticisms, had observed that some people were 
very ill to please, and made criticisms merely to show that they 
could make them, or something of that kind. I was, I confess, 
seriously offended by this r-einark of Sophia, to whose good 
sense and clear intelligence I had meant to pay a compliment 
by entering at all on such a subject, but I said nothing to 
Meliss about my taking Sophia's observation ill. I, however, 
positively determined never to make to her another observation 
of the same or a similar kind, and to keep a profound silence 
and reserve, and to converse as little as possible with Sophia 
during the remainder of my stay at Oxton. In this resolution 
I thought myself fixed and unalterable, but I no sooner saw 
Sophia than it was violated, and I conversed with her with as 
much openness and as little reserve as ever. I was surprised at 
my weakness, but could not help it ; and every trace of my 
resentment was effaced by Sophia's sitting beside me almost the 
whole night of Mrs. Brudenell's concert at the cottage. It is 
amazing how easily the imagination embraces what one wishes 



56 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

to be true. I thought Sophia took some satisfaction in being 
with me rather than with any other, but I immediately checked 
this idea by asking myself how weak it was to mistake a mere 
mark of polite attention to a stranger for a partiality which 
could not exist. I, however, sincerely declare I was so happy, 
that I thought I never could wish to separate from Oxton. 
But the hour now approached when I perceived I must leave 
it, with whatever reluctance. Sophia accompanied us to the 
coach, and in going there, I know not by what accident or 
power of sympathy, but we certainly walked arm in arm — a 
little circumstance which increased beyond measure my reluc- 
tance at leaving Oxton. When we arrived at the coach, and I 
contrasted the form and manner of Sophia with a female 
figure to whose company I saw we must for some time be 
sacrificed, I own I was shocked. I could scarcely think them 
of the same species. I was mortified beyond measure when I 
sat down in the coach — my change of situation was too sudden 
and too violent. 

" Misery, however, is often ingenious in relieving itself. I 
soon learned — I know not how — that Meliss had got Sophia's 
watch to get repaired in London. I immediately seized on 
the watch as the only representative or substitute for Sophia 
I could have, and gave Meliss mine. This watch of Sophia's 
was my darling companion by day and night; in the posses- 
sion of it I took the most extreme delight, and kept it the 
whole time, except when I was reluctantly obliged to part 
with it, to send to the watchmaker. When I was possessed of 
it I felt, I thought, some connection between Sophia and me. 
It is astonishing what trivial circumstances affection will lay 
hold of to gratify itself. Stripped of this watch, I really 
knew not what to do, how to get anything belonging to Sophia, 
or how to begin a correspondence with her, without which I 
felt I could not be happy. I resolved to make her a present 
of Ossian's Poems, in the view of giving rise to some corre- 
spondence. What has followed since, Sophia is acquainted 
with, and I need not repeat it. It depends on her whether I am 
to be rendered for ever happy or miserable by that visit at 
Oxton which gave her the name of Sophia, a name to which 
I own I am still partial, because I know no other word that 



LETTERS TO MR. FLETCHER. 57 

brings so forcibly and so clearly before me the accomplishments 
and perfections of Eliza Dawson. A. F." 

I cannot resist inserting parts of two letters to my father 
before their marriage, in the same year in which it took place 
(1791), as marking the entire confidence and trust she placed 
in the man who had won her affections by the depth and 
constancy of his own. The old-fashioned mode of speaking of 
herself as Sophia, the name he gave her after their first meeting 
in 1787, is sometimes kept up in the correspondence of four 
years' continuance. This letter is dated January 1791. 

" Sunday Jforninff. 

" Having put me in possession of your religious sentiments, 
and of your opinion that nothing but a life of active faith and 
obedience can assure to us the blessings of eternity, you will 
think, perhaps, the circumstance Sophia was led to mention 
at the beginning of this letter savors something of Romish 
superstition, as, on perusing it herself, Sophia really thinks it 
appears that she was arrogating to herself the monkish office 
of absolution. As she believes that is the very last character 
her friend would wish her to assume, she is desirous of explain- 
ing the motives that carry her every day to the bedside of the 
dying woman she mentioned, and as often to read to her the 
evangelical writings. ^'^ 

" This poor woman is above eighty; her character in early 
life is said not to have been immaculate. However, about seven 
years ago, she came, laden with infirmities, to ask relief from 
this parish (to which she belongs), and was accordingly sent 
to the town workhouse. She fell sick about six weeks ago, 
and has no friend or relation near. This circumstance acci- 
dentally came to my knowledge, and I went to see her, and 
found her in a nice clean bed, in a very comfortable little room 
(for, to the credit of this place, the poor-house is admirably 
conducted) ; an old woman had been hired to attend her. ' ] 
want nothing, madam, that money can furnish ; but 1 am on 
my deathbed, and I have not one creature in the world that 
cares for me. I have endeavored to make my peace with God 
and my Saviour, but I want somebody to read to me ; / want 
3* 



58 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

a comforter.'' These, my dear friend, were her very words, 
uttered in a voice scarcely audible. Every day since I have 
read to her those parts of Scripture where ' The Comforter ' 
is promised, and the mercy of God to the repentant sinner is 
most fully revealed and manifested. Did you see how she 
stretches her withered arm to put by the bed-curtain when she 
hears me oijen the door — how she points to the Bible that lies 
on a chest of drawers near the bedside, then points to a chair, 
which Sophia draws close to the bed, then listens while she 
reads slowly and distinctly, and, without speaking a single word, 
when any passage strikes her, raises her hand quietly, an 
impulse of devotion which Sophia observes and always repeats 
the passage — did you see all this, my dear friend, and perceive 
how hope brightens her countenance, marred as it is by the 
hand of death, you would, I know, for such a scene, relinquish 
almost every other that imagination can conceive to give 
comfort here. She told me to-day, in a whisper, she had no 
fear of death, and added, 'You have indeed comforted me.' 
I promised to see her every day while she lived, and the last 
word I heard her utter was a blessing on me, raising herself a 
little In bed, and putting by the bed-curtain to see me as long 
as she was able. My dearest friend, what a tale is thi^ to 
relate to a profound politician and a learned lawyer! but my 
politician has a heart and a mind which I value above all his 
profundity and all his learning, for he has a heart and mind that 
can feel an interest in every story where Nature and simplicity 
form a part, and above all, wherein his Sophia is concerned." 



" This moment I have come from performing my evening 
service in the kitchen, reading and explaining to the servants 
the words of Christ. I find the parlor empty, the good folks 
having all adjourned to our father's apartment, and this leaves 
me leisure to converse with you on paper. I am never more 
disposed for this gratification than when I have been discharg- 
ing an important duty : the delightful impression this leaves 
upon my mind never fails to make me more sensible of the 
happiness of loving and being beloved by you. I have felt 
this very forcibly and very often, without inquiring into the 
cause, as, on the other hand, I reproach myself much more 



LETTERS FROM E. D. 59 

severely for every fault tliat I commit than I used to do, prior 
to our unequalled attachment. What a preservative, or rather 
what an incentive to virtue is such an attachment; it is com- 
posed of sentiments that have exalted us above ourselves — 
I say above ourselves, for we should never have known what 
we were capable of, we should have remained ignorant of 
ourselves, if we had not known each other. We have, if you 
will allow me the expression, been mirrors to each other. Had 
we formed other connections we possibly might have glided 
through life like common lovers and fashionable married people, 
and have been totally unacquainted with our own extensive 
capacity for disinterested friendship, and deep and delicate affec- 
tion. You would have continued mounted on your hobby-horse, 
and have loved fame better than your wife. My character was 
far less decided, I think, — as Pope says, 'I had no character 
at all,' — before I knew you, therefore it is hard to say how I 

should have turned out. 1 am interrupted — and I find this 

interruption has broken the thread of my story. 

" The only conclusion we can deduce from the above is, that 
no two persons were ever so happily destined for each other. 

" E. D." 

Fart of Letter to Miss Cleaver, afterwards Mrs. Chapman. 

". . . . You tell me never to expect a regular letter, and 
complain you are ' tasteless^-and uninteresting to yourself . ' I 
am certain you can find no other person to whom you are 
uninteresting, and least of all to me, so write to me often, and 
give me leave to judge whether or not your letters are insipid. 
Dear Nanny, you were formed for activity and exertion, and 
you suffer your powers to lie confined and dormant. I send 
you a little book, simply written, from which, I think, more 
real benefit may be deduced, both to yourself and others, than 
from ten thousand folio pages of subtle disputations and 
philosophical reasonings: such authors are read and admired; 
their precepts in theory are excellent ; but Mrs. Trimmer 
recommends a practical system, which, if persevered in with 
ardor, will effectually prevent you from feehng ' uninteresting 
to yourself.' She drives away ennui by teaching you to 
become a truly useful member of society. I declare to you 1 



60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

speak from conviction. I used to substitute sentiment for 
activity ; and tliough I had a silent gratification in the indul- 
gence of my feelings, I -was not happy. ' The Economy of 
Charity ' pointed out to me an easy method of being useful to 
others, and I of course became more important to myself, and 
therefore happier ; for nothing is more necessary to happiness 
than a certain portion of self-importance. All this you know 
as well as I can tell you, only I can affirm that I can speak 
from experience. If possible, continue personally to interest 
yourself with your little flock, and contriving schemes for their 
improvement : if they never answer, the disappointment won't 
give you so much pain as the conception gave you pleasure. 
I know you too well, and have known you too long, to be 
deceived. With a heart so susceptible, and a mind so sanguine, 
you cannot exist without exertion. There are few people I 
should write to in this manner, because few people are like 
you. If this letter is welcome to you, write next week and 
tell me so. — Yours, Eliza Dawsox." 



Inscribed on a blank leaf of Lavafer^s Work sent to Eliza 
Daivson by Mr. Cartwright. 

When on Eliza's face I fix my sight. 
That living page I read with most delight, 
I ask thee not, Lavater, to impart 
The rules fallacious of thy idle art. 
Without thy aid, -untutored, there I find 
Each perfect trace of her inspiring mind ; 
There Wit and Fancy's rays united shine, 
And Sense and Genius mark each varied line ; 
There Taste and quick Intelligence appear — 
Intelligence as intuition clear. 
Nor less the moral features can I trace 
' In the sweet lines of that expressive face. 
How rich the radiance of that bright expanse 1 
Where every virtue beams in every glance — 
Affections such as angels feel reside — 
Soft without weakness ; firm, yet free from pride. 



LINES BY MR. CARTWRIGHT. 61 

There, too, see sensibility of soul, 

Enchanting grace diffusing o'er the whole, 

That, scorning dull cold Apathy's disguise. 

Glows in her cheek and sparkles in her eyes. 

What explanation, say then, can I need 

Of characters that he who runs may read? 

Yet this I '11 own — could thy pretended skill 

In prompt obedience to my ardent will. 

Instruct me how to read her inmost heart, 

Provided there in some dear tender part 

My favored name, by Love's soft trembling hand 

Imprinted deep, were suffered to expand. 

Then, then indeed, thy art would I adore. 

And freely own, while every doubt was o'er, 

The visionary dream derived from Heaven, 

" And, though no science, fairly worth the seven."] 



PART 11.^ 

It has pleased God in His great mercy to bring me to 
my sixty-eighth birthday, and I am now writing in tliat 
cottage in my native vilhige wliich was for some years 
inhabited by my aunt, Mrs. Fretwell, opposite to the house 
in wliich sixty-eight years ago I first drew breath, and 
where for eighteen years this day was annually celebrated 
as a day of rejoicing amongst friends and neighbors. All 
the merry-makers of those days are novv^in the grave except 
my aunt, Miss Hill, now in her eighty-sixth year, and my- 
self, now well stricken in years ; and the house is empty 
and desolate and falling into decay. It will be half a cen- 
tury next April since we left it. 

My marriage day, the IGtli of July, 1791, was one of 
the most sorrowful of my life. The pang of parting from 
my father and all my family had almost broken my heart. 
But I was not of a morbid temperament ; youth and hope, 
and affectionate confidence in my husband, soon reconciled 
me to the separation. I was received by Mr. Fletcher's 
circle of friends in Edinburgh with a warmth of hospitality 
and kindness I had never before met with among strangers. 
Each vied with the other who should show most kindness 
to the young bride of their friend. An English stranger, 
too, was at that time (nearly fifty years since) a novelty in 
Edinburgh compared with what it is now. Our cii'cle was 
not wide, or fashionable, or highly polished, but it was 
intelligent and warm-hearted. 

1 Our mother's contiinialion of her domestic memorials in her own hand- 
writing is dated Oxtou Cottage, January 15th, 18^8. 



EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 63 

[The following letter, preserved by our mother's early friend, 
Mrs. Liiyeock, to whom it was addressed about a month after 
her marria<fe and arrival in Edinl)urjfh, j^nvcs hii|)|)y testimony, 
then and tlierc, to the cheering inlluences wliieh awaited her, 
both in and out of her new home. It tells, too, what it was 
in these which cheered her most — the true and kindly estima- 
tion in which she found her husband held, and his tender con- 
sideration for her, not only as a wife, but as a daughter. He 
had never allowed himself to feel resentmejit for her father's 
o])])(),sition to his suit, always admitting that, in so far as 
worldly considerations went, it was natural and reasonable. 
There can be no doubt that this generous forbearance in him 
advanced his cause in her heart, making her the more steadfast 
during the trying period of her engagement, and strengthening 
her as to the riglitness of fullilling it. 

To Mrs. Laycoch. 

"Edinhukoh, AuguBi 1791. 
" You have known me long enough to find out that my hopes 
were always extremely sanguine ; yet believe me, I iiad formed 
no conception of the happiness I have enjoyed, and continue to 
enjoy, in the society of my husband ; nor could I have conceived 
that tenderness was so ingenious, for he absolutely contrives to 
be continually giving me new and additional x)roofs of his affec- 
tion. In ad<lition to the atteliflons wliieli constitute my happi- 
ness, I have the satisfaction of seeing his character universally 
esteemed, and his talents universally respected. Without troub- 
ling himself about the selection of society, he seems to be ac- 
quainted with none but good people, for he has so nice a sense 
of honor, and cares so little about any distinctions but those 
which arise from character, that persons of unsound principles 
must feel uiK^asy with him. The concern he feels on account of 
my father's illness alfecls me very .sensibly. He is very sanguine 
in the hope of some benefit arising from the prescrii)tions of the 
Edinburgh physicians. I wish my friends at Tadcaster could 
have seen the eagerness with which he convened the medical 
men upon that occasion ; I wish it because I think it would 



64 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

have given thfm a better knowledge of his character than they 
could receive from any other circumstance, especially the repre- 
sentation of a wife." 

Our mother's -written reminiscences thus go on to tell of two 
persons among the friend-circle of her past years in Edinburgh, 
who were indeed no common ones.] 

Chance placed me in the neighborhood, in Hill Street, 
of an Ayrshire family, the Fergussons of Monkwood ; ^ and 
Miss Fergusson, the eldest daughter, became the earliest, as 
she has always been the firmest and fondest, of my Edin- 
burgh friends. Mrs. John Craig Millar, the young wife of 
an advocate,* an intimate friend of my husband, soon fas- 
cinated me with the brilliancy of her talents and the charms 
of her conversation. She was the youngest daughter of 
the celebrated Dr. Cullen. Her father's house was for 
many years the resort of all the men of talent and literature 
in Edinburgh, and of many women of rank and fashion. 
David Hume, the historian ; Adam Smith, author of " The 
"Wealth of Nations ; " Black, the celebrated chemist ; Henry 
Mackenzie (often called, from his well-known book, " The 
Man of Feeling"), were frequent visitors at Mrs. J. C. Mil- 
lar's early home, at the foot of the Mint Close, Canongate, 
where Dr. Cullen then lived ; and in their society his highly- 
gifted family had acquired a taste for all that was intellec- 
tual and refined. Mrs. Millar had singular quickness of parts, 
with great sweetness of disposition and elegance of manners. 
We became intimate friends, and our sympathy in the polit- 
ical sentiments of our husbands was a great bond between 
us. At this time, 1791 and 1792, the grand princi^^les of 
the French Revolution occupied the thoughts and stirred 
the jDassions of all thinking and feeling men. Mr. Fletcher 

1 At Mr. Fergusson's house, where Walter Scott was intimate, my mother 
often met him in her early married life; he did appear in the drawing-rouui 
in those days, which very few did. 

2 Eldest son of Professor Millar, of the Glasgow University, author of 
some works of well-earned repute. 



EDINBURGH FRIENDS. - 65 

was an ardent admirer of the first principles of that revolu- 
tion. He loved liberty from an enlarged sense of philan- 
thropy, not out of party spirit, but because he firmly believed 
that a free government was the only means of promoting 
national improvement and happiness. He had devoted the 
last ten years of his life to obtaining for Scotland that 
burgh reform which he conceived would lead to Parlia- 
mentary reform, and to the emancipation of Scotland from 
that vile system of irresponsible municipal government, and 
Parliamentary corruption, which disgraced and depressed 
it, and made it a by-word among its English neighbors. 
This feeling was so strong in my husband's mind that it 
might be called his master passion. I believe he would 
have gone to the block in defence of his political principles 
as cheerfully as any martyr that ever bled in that good 
cause. But his sound judgment tempered his enthusiasm, 
and prevented his ever doing any rash or foolish thing. 
He never did that which he feared to avow. He was 
solicited in the winter of 1792, by the celebrated Thomas 
Muir, to join the Society of the " Friends of the People." 
I remember Mr. Muir's calling on him one evening in Hill 
Street, and I heard them at hjgh words in an adjoining room. 
When his visitor went away, Mr. Fletcher told me that Muir 
had quitted him much dissatisfied because he could not 
persuade him to join the Society. Mr. Fletcher added — 
" I believe him to be an honest enthusiast, but he is an 
ill-judging man. These violent reformers will create such 
an alarm in the country as must strengthen the Govern- 
ment. The country is not prepared to second their views 
of annual Parliaments and universal suffrage." 

The country did become exceedingly alarmed, as he pre- 
dicted, and the subsequent atrocities committed in France 
by an unprincipled faction, — the worst enemies of liberty, 
— produced such a horror (amongst the higher orders 



66 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

especially) in Scotland, that every man was considered a 
rebel in his heart who did not take a decided part in sup- 
porting Tory measures of government. Mr. Fletcher, how- 
ever, kept firm to his Whig principles. Though abstractedly 
he admired Republicanism, and wished that form of govern- 
ment to have fair play in America, he did not by any means 
desire the subversion of the British Constitution at home. 
He was a stanch reformer, not a revolutionist. At that 
time, however, and for several years afterwards, such was 
the terror of Liberal principles in Scotland that no man at 
the Bar professing these could expect a fair share of prac- 
tice. There being no juries in civil cases, it was supposed 
that the judges would not decide in favor of any litigant 
who employed Whig lawyers. Mr. Fletcher always treated 
this opinion with scorn, as a foul calumny against the Scot- 
tish judges, though he suffered under it, being told by some 
sincere friends that under such an impression they dared 
not employ him as their advocate. We were often at that 
time reduced to our last guinea ; but such was my sympathy 
in my husband's public feelings that I remember no period 
in my married life happier than that, in which we suffered 
for conscience' sake. 

A great happiness occurred to us in the summer of 1792. 
This was a visit from my dear father, my good aunt Daw- 
son, and Mrs. Brndenell. That my father should come and 
see with his own eyes how much my husband was honored 
in his own place and country, and how happy I was in my 
new relationship, had been the height of my hopes and 
wishes. Soon, indeed, this happiness was increased by the 
birth of my eldest son. Miles Angus Fletcher, which took 
place on the 6th of September, 1792. In the following 
spring we took our beautiful boy to cheer his grandfather 
in Yorkshire, and after his weaning I left him there ; while 
later in that year (1793) I accompanied Mr. Fletcher to 



VISIT TO RANNOCH. 67 

pay his mother a visit at his early home among the " Braes 
of Rannoch," after passing some weeks at the hospitable 
house of Mr. Fletcher, of Dunans, in Argyleshire. 

We proceeded from thence to Rannoch, in Perthshire, 
where my mother-in-law lived with her second husband, Mr. 
Macdiarmid, a true-bred Celt, who disdained to speak a word 
of the Sasenach tongue, or to wear any dress but the phila- 
beg and belted plaid. She was a devout and gentle-hearted 
woman, refined by the purity and depth of her religious feel- 
ings. She claimed hereditary descent from a certain re- 
nowned Highland chieftain, M'Naughton, known as the 
" Black Knight of Loch- Awe." He was hereditary keeper 
of the King's castles before the Campbells had established 
themselves in that district. But she allowed no pride in 
this alliance with Highland chieftainship to make her for- 
get her duty to God and her neighbor. The parish of 
Rannoch was perhaps thirty miles in extent. On a Sunday 
she used to convene her unlettered neighbors, the tacks- 
men and the cotters' families, on the shady side of a hill, 
and there translate aloud for them portions of the English 
Bible into Gaelic. They came to her in all their troubles 
and difficulties, for she was ju- woman of strong understand- 
ing and admirable temper. She twice became the second 
wife of men who had families by their first marriages. 
She had six children by her first, and five, I think, by her 
second husband; and these four families of children lived 
under her maternal government in perfect harmony with 
one another. She loved my husband, the eldest child of 
her first marriage, with pride and fondness. She had be- 
stowed all his little patrimony on his education, and from 
the age of sixteen he had worked out his own honorable 
independence, and had besides done much to help his 
family. She had, at the time I first saw her, when be- 
tween seventy and eighty, resigned all household cares to 



68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

her widowed daughter-in-law, Mrs. John Macdiarmid, but 
she was treated with respect and deference by all who ap- 
proached her ; and, though living in a simple farm-house, 
she and her old Celtic spouse (known by the name of Baron 
Macdiarmid, an old patronymic of the Highlands, which 
survived the possession of departed lands) dwelt in ease 
and comfort, on an extensive sheep farm, then tenanted by 
the widow of her son. 

I had then never seen a state of society so primitive as 
that at Rannoch. My husband and I were cherished guests 
there, and it would have said little for my heart if I had not 
loved and honored the good old lady who at once took me 
into her warmest affections. 

Soon after our return to Edinburgh from the Highland 
visit, my good uncle, Mr. William Dawson, and my cousin, 
Miss Dawson, of Wighill, brought us home our darling 
boy. He jvalked stoutly, though but one year and a week 
old. 

In the spring of 1794 my father made us a present of 
an excellent house in Queen Street, No. 20, and came 
down himself in the summer with my aunt and Mrs. 
Brudenell to spend a month or two with us. His little 
grandson. Miles, was now able to talk to him ; and such 
was his delight in looking on this child that I could not 
find in my heart to refuse his request to take him along 
with them when they left us. I think my dear father 
enjoyed his second visit to Edinburgh even more than his 
first. He saw me surrounded with many blessings. He 
enjoyed the pleasant house he had given us to live in. 
He received much respect and attention from all Mr. 
Fletcher's friends. He saw that I had confided my happi- 
ness to one most deserving. On leaving us, he and Mrs. 
Brudenell took Miles with them to Tadcaster, and my 
good aunt remained to be with me at my second confine- 



STATE TRIALS. 69 

ment, whicli took place on the 31st of October 1794, when 
my eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was born. 

Not many days after her birth the newspapers were full 
of the proceedings on the State trials in London — the trial 
of Thomas Hardy and John Home Tooke, etc. etc., for 
high treason — and the joyful news reached us that these 
persecuted men were acquitted by a jury of their country- 
men. Mr. Fletcher considered this verdict as the noblest 
proof of the excellence of the British Constitution. Had 
the juries of England truckled to the Tory Government of 
the time, as those of Scotland had unhappily done in the 
convictions of Muir, Joseph Gerald, Fysche Palmer, etc. 
etc., he thought that Great Britain would not have been a 
country for a free man to live in, because not one in which 
a man could fearlessly avow his sentiments on political 
subjects. This assertion of the right of private judgment 
in matters of State policy being established by the glorious 
acquittal of Hardy and Home Tooke, put hope and confi- 
dence into the hearts of all true and honest reformers. 

My husband read at my bedside the very interesting 
details of these trials ; and so highly did I sympathize in 
his delight that the excitement was followed by a sharp 
attack of fever, and newspapers, juries' verdicts, and all 
triumphs of Liberal opinions were for a time interdicted 
to the lady in the straw, who had a somewhat tedious con- 
finement. I was able, however, to suckle my lovely infant, 
as I had done her elder brother, and this privilege was 
amongst my most cherished maternal duties. I was a 
good nurse in the true sense of the word, never denying 
my infant its natural food, night or day when called for. 
I never allowed any other occupation or amusement to 
interfere with this first claim of duty. My child grew 
and prospered, my home was happy. Political animosity 
around us was increased by the bitter disappointment of 



70 AUTO BIO GRAPH Y. 

the Tory party, but this never cooled the friendship be- 
tween Miss Fergusson and me, and her gentle spirit was 
often brave in defending me against the aspersions of politi- 
cal rancor. 

[It is hardly possible to credit now, save as having been 
uttered in jest, the things gravely said and as gravely believed 
at that time in Edinburgh concerning those who were generally 
h'ld to be on the wrong side in politics. That our mother 
had provided herself with a small guillotine, and exercised the 
same in beheading poultry, or perhaps " rats and mice and such 
suiall deer," in order to be expert when " French principles," 
and practice in accordance, should prevail in our land, was one 
of these. It reached our father's amazed and amused ears by 
the question asked him in sad earnest by a kindly old Highland 
clergyman (when in Edinburgh on the business of the General 
Assembly), whether it was possible that a lady he so much 
respected could be so " awfully misled "? We can well believe 
that Miss Fergusson had often to defend her friend against 
grievous aspersions in those days ; but this was not the only 
service gratefully numbered as fruit of the intimate communion 
which then and long afterwai'ds they enjoyed with one another. 
It was from her, above all others, that our mother found the 
sympathy she needed in those deep religious affections, which 
were never warmer in her than in days of gladness, -^ from hor 
that she most gained that living support to her Christian faith 
and hope, to be had only from one whose friend-love, like all 
the other blessed uses of her " charity," came " out of a pui-e 
heart and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned." All our 
mother's friends had something of a lover-like regard for her — 
Miss Fergusson as much of this as any — for hers was a very 
fervent as well as a veiy gentle nature. She abounded in natural, 
genial sympathy ; she could, in no common sort, make all the 
joys and the sorrows of iVii-nds her own ; but, as free from 
vanity herself as she was free from selfishness, she never 
dangerously ministered to the vanity even of those she admii'ed 
most In later days, when our mother read those passages, 
as true as they are beautiful, in which Jeremy Taylor gives his 
sense of the quality and the uses of a "brave friend," it was 



HOME LIFE AND HAPPINESS. 71 

to this first intimate neighbor of her wedded life that she always 
specially applied them. As young children, we can all recol- 
lect being not a little jealous of Miss Fergusson. She and our 
mother used to have such earnest talks — often too long ones 
we thought — with one another, at times when we had rather 
have had the companion we loved best all to ourselves; but 
very precious to us was that inherited love in after-days, as 
precious as to her who counted it among her blessings to look 
upon the growing and the matured friendship of her children 
with one she so entirely loved and trusted.] 

In the spring of 1795 our friends Mr. and Mrs. Millar 
took their departure for America, banished thither by the 
strong tide of Tory prejudice which ran so fiercely against 
Mr. Millar. He had joined the Society of ." The Friends 
of the People." He lost his professional employment, and 
though a most able and hoftorable man, was so disgusted 
with the state of public affairs in Scotland that he deter- 
mined to seek peace and freedom in the United States of 
America. I felt Mrs. Millar's departure as a great loss. In 
two years she returned a widow, and our friendship continued 
till her death. 

In the summer of 1795 we, took our infant daughter to 
see my father at Tadcaster,'^and stayed there till the winter 
Session of that year brought us back to Edinburgh in 
November. Our boy Miles seemed so essential to -my 
father's comfort that we consented to let the child remain 
with him for the winter months. Much occupied in my 
home with nursery pleasures and hopes, and taking a' 
strong interest m public events, my time passed on in 
placid contentment. I had by no means an extensive 
circle of acquaintance. 

[At an after time, when our mother's circle was somewhat 
large, we can all remember, even in the midst of nmch bright 
enjoyment of society in Edinburgh, how often she would recall 
with a loving memory this quiet home season of her early 



72 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

■wedded life. It was, she used to say, her most bright, most 
satisfied, and satisfying season. She looked back to it thank- 
fully, as having been then -withheld from any large indulgence 
in what she honestly called her "besetting sin," the love of 
popularity, in the days when spirits fresh, unjaded by the 
often toilsome claims of wide social intercourse,, are so specially 
needed, and so dearly prized, round the heai'th of a young 
mother's home. There she was indeed the light and the life 
of our young IIa'cs. We knew that we were her joy, and we 
felt that she was ours. But as all her care for us, constant 
as it was, did not in the least interfere with a true wifely 
sympathy in our dear father's public interests, so did neither 
the one nor the other hinder her from taking to her heart and. 
her providing thoughts, the case of any needing help who 
might come within her reach. Of silver and gold she had 
indeed very little to give in those days. We have often 
thought since that this must have been to her a severe form 
of self-restraint in the days when strict frugality was necessary 
at home, for never was there a more cheerful bestower of what 
she could justly spare, and largely did she give of that earnest 
sympathy which in many cases is above all other help. She 
had a friend during the period of her active Edinburgh life 
who ought not to be passed over, although it is difficult some- 
times to select from the many of all classes who came and 
went as familiar helps about our Castle Street home. We 
have a feeling that the person who then went among us by the 
name of " Susan the Good " was very valuable to our mother, 
and acted indirectly on the minds of her children, who were 
often observant and silent listeners to the conversations which 
took place between them. This friend lived in a very obscure 
street not far off, and for the sake of supporting her mother 
(a reduced Highland lady), and assisting in the education of 
her sisters, exercised the craft of dressmaking, without tlie 
skill to do it well. Her mind was occupied with great and 
good subjects and objects, such as negro emancipation and the 
relief of the poor and needy, while her fingers vainly attempted 
to make a good fit. To this excellent person our motlier 
always adhered as a dressmaker so long as it was necessary, 
and their friendship lasted through hfe. Many were the 



BENEVOLENT INTERESTS. 73 

interesting conversations listened to while the so-called fitting- 
on proceeded. They were both gifted talkers in their different 
ways, and both were impressed with the hopeful truth of the 
power of good to overcome evil. This friend was especially 
useful to our mother in enabling her to find employment for 
the many unfortunate persons who came under her notice. It 
was some years before this that she had been led to join in a 
work then first entered on by a good man named Campbell,^ 
for the purpose of reclaiming some of those poor women whose 
fall from woman's virtue had made them outcasts in the 
saddest sense. No home of shelter and kindly instruction 
had then been formed for such in Edinburgh. The one then 
opened was on a very humble scale, in an obscure close of the 
Old Town leading from the Nether Bow, a place unknown by 
sight to the present generation, having been swept away — 
rightly, perhaps — in the course of modern improvements ; but 
poor as the asylum was, it was carefully tended, and our 
mother could long afterwards recall with comfort and hope 
several cases in which the work effected there had been 
manifestly blessed. One history, which occurred I believe early 
in my mother's married life, we have heard her relate with 
peculiar satisfaction and thankfulness, and ought to be recorded 
in these memorials of her life. The name of this person was 
Nelly Wilson. Our mother first saw her in one of her visits 
to the Infirmary to see a "sick child. On her way out, she 
was struck with the fine appearance of a young woman at the 
door of one of the wards, dressed in a white wrapper, and she 
asked the nurse who conducted her out what illness that young 
person had. The nui'se shook her head, sajdng, " Oh, mem, 
she's here for an ill cause; but she's better, and goes out to- 
morrow, and back to her ill ways, nae doot." My mother 
felt strongly impelled to speak to this unfortunate and erring 
sister; and having requested the nurse to allow her to do so, 
they were left together in a small empty ward. She spoke all 
that was in her pure and loving heart on this sad subject, but 
without appearing to make the least impression on her hearer. 

1 John Campbell, ironmonger, foot of the West Bow, afterwards the Rev. 
John Campbell of Kingslaud, London, and author of " Travels in South 
Africa." 



74 A UTOBIO GEAPHY. 

She said she was herself so strongly moved that she even went 
down on her knees to Nelly Wilson, imploring her to renounce 
her life of sin and degradation, and go into the asylum which 
she told her of, where she might find employment and support; 
but all in vain. On that day she made no impression,. at least 
to her own perception : the proud, bold look never relented — 
the manner, although not rude, remained quite hard. They 
parted, and my mother lost sight of her of course. Some 
months after this, late one evening, only a day or two before 
a journey to Yorkshire, my mother was told a person wished 
to see her. It was the nurse from the infirmary, who said 
she had come by the earnest desire of Nelly Wilson, who was 
again ill, and could not rest night or day without seeing the 
" leddy " who had spoken, to her some months before ; and, 
said the nurse, in her broad Scotch, "If you'll believe me, 
,mem, she's no' like the same cratur she was; her bolster 's wet 
wi' her tears, and she'll do what you bid her noo." The 
" leddy " went the following morning, and found Nelly Wilson 
in a loathsome state of disease, but in a broken and contrite 
state of mind — the stony heart had become a heart of Al-sIi, 
and she listened with eagerness to the words of hope and 
warning. The poor penitent gave her solemn promise that 
she would henceforth renounce the life she now loathed, and 
enter the asylum as soon as she could be admitted. She 
faithfully kept her promise, and ever after led a life of faith 
and obedience, and assisted others to enter the same course. 
Many years after this occurred, Nelly Wilson became the 
object of a virtuous attachment. A respectable tradesman 
asked her in marriage, but she would not consent to become 
his wife until she came to my mother to request her to relate 
to her lover the whole history of her former life ; that after 
knowing that, if he was still disposed to make her his wife, 
she felt that she could make him happy, but that she set him 
entirely free to do as he felt right. The man was deeply 
affected, my mother said, but so touched by Nelly's fine sense 
of honor and truthfulness, that he said he loved her more 
than ever. They were married, and went to live in London, 
where her husband had a profitable business, and where my 
mother saw her a happy wife and mother more than once 



BIRTH OF SECOND DAUGHTER. 75 

afterwards. This was one of the many incidents which made 
her life in Edinburgh one of real missionary work, when it 
might be supposed by those who saw her only in society that 
that was her chief vocation. She was so little of an egotist, 
that, except to those who were deeply interested in such 
annals, she never introduced them; she could not abide a 
half -interest in a soul-stirring subject, and the purity of her 
own nature gave her an intense feeling of the degradation of 
this form of vice, and indeed for all the fallen ; she felt that 
Christ's followers were especially bound to hope, and pray, and 
do " what they could."] 

On the 23d of May [1796] my domestic interests were 
increased by the birth of a second daughter, my dear Grace, 
so named after my husband's excellent mother. My good 
aunt Dawson ,on this, as on former confinements, came to 
be with me on that occasion. My infant was singularly 
thriving, and at the end of a fortnight I had perfectly 
recovered from my confinement. In the autumn of that 
year I took our two little girls to Tadcaster. We found 
our dear Miles grown in size, strength and beauty, and 
again left him to gladden the winter of the affectionate 
circle at Tadcaster. He wa^ a child of quick parts, and 
of ready combinations, with a warm temper and a very 
affectionate heart. He was too much an object of con- 
centrated attention in his grandfather's home, and used to 
say, in after-life, that his temper never recovered the 
spoiling of Tadcaster. I do not remember that the winter 
of 1796-7 was marked by any particular event in our 
domestic history. Of my two little girls, the eldest, an 
uncommonly beautiful child, was of a hasty temper, but 
truthful in a remarkable degree, and quick of apprehen- 
sion. The second was less attractive in appearance, but 
gentle, reflecting, and exceedingly affectionate and un- 
selfish. Again we took them to my father's house in the 
summer of 1797. He had begun to perceive that our boy 



76 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

Miles, then five years old, required more discipline than 
he had resolution to enforce, and proposed that we should 
take him back to Edinburgh with us. The parting scene 
I never shall forget. The child shrieking and clinging to 
his grandfather's knees, — the old man sobbing with grief, 
and yet insisting that he should go, since it was for his 
good. He was carried by main force to the carriage, an 
unwilling prisoner in the custody of his parents, — his 
heart knit to the friends he had left. The sorrows of a 
child have been aptly compared to April showers, but this 
sad scene mad-e me feel more than ever, the evil of being so 
far separated from the home of my youth. 

On the 8th of January, 1798, I was blessed with an- 
other daughter. We called her Margaret, after our kind 
and affectionate friend Mrs. Brudenell, with whom she be- 
came an especial favorite, having, as she said, the dark 
eyes of my mother. 

It was in March, 1798, that I prevailed on several ladies 
of my acquaintance to join me in the institution of a 
Female Benefit Society in Edinburgh, and after much 
difficulty and opposition this club was established for the 
relief of maid-servants and other poor women in sickness. 
Such institutions among men had long been in operation 
in Scotland, but this was the first Female Benefit Society 
attempted, and as all innovations at that time were looked 
upon with suspicion, and especially where ladies suspected 
of democratic principles were concerned, this poor " sick 
club " was vehemently opposed by the constituted authori- 
ties, — jiamely, the Deputy Sheriff" and the Magistrates, 
when these were legally applied to, to sanction the rules 
of the Society. I mention this to mark the spirit of the 
time at that period in Edinburgh, both as regards politics, 
and with regard to the condition of women. For ladies 
to take any share, especially a leading share, in the 



BENEFIT SOCIETY. 77 

management of a public institution, was considered so novel 
and extraordinary a proceeding as ought not to be counte- 
nanced. This " Female Friendly Society " has however been 
in operation now in Edinburgh for forty-six years, the late 
Miss Wilson (of Howden), my much valued friend, having 
kept the accounts with such accuracy that it has been con- 
sidered a model for other Societies of like kind to form 
their rules upon, and to conduct their establishments. It 
has by the blessing of God relieved much distress, and has 
been the means of doing good to working people, mainly at 
their own expense, thereby cultivating habits of forethought 
and economy, as well as attention to good morals in other 
respects. 

In the autumn of 1798 we had distressing accounts of 
my dear father's increasing infirmities, and Mr. Fletcher 
and I resolved to take our little son Miles to see him. 
Dropsical symptoms had begun to appear; his breathing 
was much affected, but he was not too ill to be cheered by 
our visit, and especially by the sight of his darling boy, 
now six years old, and, for that age, most companionable. 
"We remained till the middle of October, and the parting 
was sad indeed, for it was^^thout the hope of meeting 
again in this world. But our visit had soothed some 
hours of languor, and had cherished warm feelings of affec- 
tion. In less than a month after we parted, my dear father 
was released from his sufferings. A man of more sterling 
worth of character I have never known, or one of higher 
principles of truth and honor. He had great natural quick- 
ness of parts, a liberal heart, and a most happy temper, — 
diffusing cheerfulness wherever he went. When he lost my 
mother, his strongest affections became concentrated in me ; 
and though nothing could exceed the happiness of my mar- 
ried life, I often marvelled at myself for having left such a 
father. 



78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

[We can remember how, for many years after this bereave- 
ment, our dear mother, on her birthday (though she always 
tried to make it the bright hohday looked forward to by us) 
used to take out some memorials of her old home and weep 
over them. We did not, in those young child days, well under- 
stand " why mamma always cried on her birthday morning." 
We do quite understand it now.] 

In the summer of 1799, during the vacation of the 
Courts, Mr. Fletcher's health, as well as my own, seeming 
to require change of air, we repaired with our children to 
a very inexpensive cottage, in the Morningside district to 
the south of Edinburgh, called " Egypt " (so named in 
memory of a gipsy colony who, as tradition said, had made 
their head-quarters in its immediate " whereabouts," by 
virtue of a grant of land given to them there by one of 
the Scottish kings). It was the first time that we could 
afford ourselves the luxury of a country house, and we 
enjoyed it greatly, seeing how much it promoted the health 
and happiness of our children. Our friend Mrs. Millar 
had by that time returned from America, a widow, with 
all her hopes and prospects blighted. She came to visit 
us at " Egypt," and interested us much by her animated 
and graphic descriptions of America, and of men and 
manners in the United States. She had often seen and 
conversed with the greatest man of his age, — General 
Washington, Philadelphia being then the seat of the Federal 
Government. She described his demeanor as calm, mild, 
and dignified, and his domestic character as excellent. I 
should not omit to record that it was in the latter part of 
this summer, when we were living very quietly at our 
country house, that my dear friend Miss Fergusson, and 
her very agreeable sister Ann, brought me to read, for the 
first time, Wordsworth's " Lyrical Ballads." Never shall 
I forget the charm I found in these poems. It was like 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS. 79 

a new era in my existence. They were in my waking 
thoughts day and night. They had to me all the vivid 
effects of the finest pictures, with the enchantment of the 
sweetest music, and they did much to tranquillize and 
strengthen my heart and mind, which bodily indisposition 
had somewhat weakened. My favorites were the " Lines on 
Tintern Abbey," the " Lines left on a Yew Tree at Esthwaite 
Lake," " The Brothers," and " Old Michael," and I taught 
my children to recite " We are Seven," and several others. 

In September, 1799, Mr. Fletcher and I returned to 
20 Queen Street, leaving our children under the care of 
Miss Fletcher of Dunans. We were joined by dear aunt 
Dawson, and our good friend Mrs. Brudenell, — the latter, 
however, preferring to remain in the country with the 
children. On the 6th of October I was confined of my 
youngest son Angus, my aunt cheering and attending my 
sick-bed, as she had affectionately done four times before 
under the like circumstances. 

Li the spring of 1801 I accompanied Mr. Fletcher to 
London, leaving our children under the care of Miss Deas, 
a respectable nursery-governes^, with a promise from my 
kind and faithful friend IVIiss^ Wilson, that she would see 
them daily, and report progress frequently. This, my 
first expedition to London, was partly one of business, 
partly of curiosity to see the great city. We were in 
lodgings in. Albemarle Street, and made good use of our 
time in seeing all the sights and the distinguished people 
that were within our reach. It was then I first became 
acquainted with Joanna Baillie and with Mrs. Barbauld. 
Miss Millar (a kind friend then and always) introduced me 
to the former; Lord Buchan gave me a letter to Mrs. 
Barbauld. I was taken by Dr. and Mrs. Baillie to Hamp- 
stead to see the gifted Joanna. I found her on a Sunday 
morning reading the Bible to her mother, a very aged lady, 



80 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

"who was quite blind. Joanna's manners and accent were 
very Scottish, very kind, simple, and unaiiected, but less 
frank than those of her elder sister. She seemed almost 
studiously to avoid literary conversation, but spoke with 
much interest of old Scotch friends, and of her early days 
in Scotland. I was much interested in her, having but a 
short time before read her " Plays on the Passions " with 
deep interest. 

"With the brilliancy and power of Mrs. Barbauld's con- 
versational talents my husband and I were greatly de- 
lighted. She took the same views that we did on public 
affairs, and had felt deeply, as we had done, disappointment 
in the disastrous turn of the French Revolution. "We saw 
Mr. Barbauld also, and thought him remarkably intelligent 
and agreeable. We visited my quondam friend Mr. Woodi- 
son, whose introduction to me in 1789 by our mutual friend 
Mr. Cartwright I have already mentioned, and who still 
honored me with his esteem and friendship. He lived in 
a small house in Chancery Lane, where his mother had 
lived for many years along with him, and where she had 
died a short time before. Mr. Fletcher had at this time 
some interviews with his political friend Mr. Sheridan, 
whom, however, I did not see. 

I well remember after the fatigues of sight-seeing the 
pleasure and refreshment I had at our lodgings m reading 
Miss Edgeworth's admirable novel, " Belinda," — some of 
the hours so spent were among the pleasantest of our Lon- 
don visit. We were happy to return to our home and to 
our children, after j^assing a few days with our friends at 
Tadcaster on our way. 

In the October of this year, our dear Miles, then nine 
years of age, went to the High School. I well remember 
his bright, animated face, in returning home in the frosty 
days of winter, without any great aspirations after scholar- 



HOME INTERESTS. 81 

ship however, but exhilarated by the enjoyment of mixing 
with many play-fellows. In the May of the year following 
(1802) our home happiness was increased by the birth of 
our youngest daughter, Mary. She was a beautiful infant, 
with bright large eyes and curly brown hair. On the 
fourth or fifth day after Mary was born, I became very 
feverish and unwell : my milk left me, and rny distress in 
not being able to nurse this dear infant, as I had nursed 
my other children, was unreasonable. We procured a wet- 
nurse, a respectable married woman, whose husband was at 
sea; and when we. removed to Dalmeny for country air and 
quiet, a month after my confinement, we had the nurse's 
child lodged in the village that the mother might see it 
daily, and feel satisfied that it was taken care of. My 
dear aunt remained with us till I was quite strong, and 
then took dear Bessy, our eldest daughter, back with her 
to Tadcaster. Our summer at Dalmeny was a very 
pleasant one, spent in a cottage, which was small and 
homely, as suited our fortunes. After our eldest boy's 
return to school to Edinburgh, Grace, Margaret, Angus, 
and the infant Mary, formed otir little household; and it 
was this summer, when Grac^-was the eldest of the young 
party, that I observed her mind to take a spring of advance- 
ment which quite surprised me. It was here, too, that I 
observed good promise of strength in little Margaret's 
character. Being one day hurt by a fall out of doors, she 
came home, and, without alarming me, quietly put herself 
to bed. When I looked for her, on hearing of the accident, 
an hour afterwards, I found her fast asleep. She rose no 
worse for the misadventure. 

After a year's experience of the High School for our 

dear Miles, we found that the dissipations of idleness in a 

large companionship were too strong for his power of 

resistance. Some misleading school friends, and some 

4* p 



82 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

evasions of truth, made us decide before the close of this 
year on removing him, to be placed under the private tuition 
of a respectable clergyman, the Rev. William Thomson, at 
the manse of Dalzell, near Hamilton. His new master had 
not above six little boys to look after, and he performed his 
duty conscientiously, so that we had reason to be satisfied 
with the step we had taken. 

The latter part of the year 1802 was interesting to us 
in a public way by the commencement of the Edinburgh 
Review. We were fortunate enough to be acquainted 
more or less intimately with several of the earliest con- 
tributors, Mr. (now Lord) Brougham, Mr. Jeffrey, Dr. John 
Thomson, Mr. John Allen, J^ancis Horner, and James Gra- 
hame, the author of " The Sabbath." James Grahame was 
a much-valued friend. He united to a highly refined and 
cultivated taste much general information, a very sincere 
and elevated piety, and the greatest simplicity of man- 
ners. I, who knew Edinburgh both before and after the 
appearance of the Edinburgh Review, can bear witness 
to the electrical effects of its publication on the public 
mind, and to the large and good results in a political 
sense that followed its circulation. The authorship of the 
different articles was discussed at every dinner-table, and 
I recollect a table-talk occurrence at our house which 
must have belonged to this year. Mr. Fletcher, though 
not himself given to scientific inquiry or interests, had been 
so much struck with the logical and general ability dis- 
played in an article of the young Review on Professor 
Black's Chemistry, that in the midst of a few guests, of 
whom Henry Brougham was one, he expressed an opinion 
(while in entire ignorance as to the authorship) to the 
effect that the man Avho wrote that article might do or be 
anything he pleases. Mr. Brougham, who was seated near 
me at table, stretched eagerly forward and said, " What, 



EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 83 

Mr. Fletcher, be anything ? May he be Lord Chancellor ? " 
On which my husband repeated his words with emphasis, 
" Yes, Lord Chancellor, or anything he desires." This 
opinion seems to confirm Lord Cockburn's words in another 
place concerning the young Henry Brougham of the Specu- 
lative Society, that he even then " scented his quarry from 
afar." 

James Grahame, the gentle poet of " The Sabbath," and 
" The Birds of Scotland," was so susceptible of the tender 
passion that he fell in love at first sight with a young lady 
whom he saw first ringing at our door, then No. 20 Queen 
Street. He came in a little afterwards, and asked me many 
questions about the dark-eyed beauty, who, he said, had 
cast the glamour " owre him." I invited him to meet her ; 
she completed her conquest, and at the end of two months 
they were married. It was about this time our excellent 
friend Dr. Anderson brought Thomas Campbell to our 
house, and a firm friendship between us was formed, which 
stood the test of time and London, and fame, on his part 
to the close of his life. I have often lectured him, and 
made him angry, but he never wavered in his friendship. 
Life at this time glided on^with us calmly and satisfac- 
torily. My husband's professional emoluments, though very 
moderate, were amply sufficient for us, combined with my 
inheritance from my father's property which was left to 
me in life-rent, and was entailed on our children. We had 
no vanity to lead us into expense, our circle of acquaint- 
ance was very limited, consisting chiefly of old profes- 
sional friends of Mr. Fletcher, their wives and families, — 
with occasional gleams of more literary and distinguished 
persons. Of these was the Hon. Henry Erskine, whose 
wit, and whose graces of mind and manners, placed him 
at the head of good society in Edinburgh, while he was 
confessedly the honored leader of the Liberal or Whig 



84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

party. I do not remember to have had any stirrings of 
worldly vanity or ambition. My delight in feeling that 
my sympathy in my husband's public feelings contributed 
much to his happiness, and my just pride in the lofty 
integrity of his character, and the affectionate kindness of 
his heart towards me and our children, formed my happi- 
ness. These children, too, were my " mirth and matter." 
I was wrapped up in them, — and though I never could 
command the patience that qualified me to be their teacher, 
I delighted in making them my happy and confidential 
companions. I seldom required to use any other jiunish- 
ment for their offences than exiling them from the sitting- 
room, and they became very contrite in the nursery. My 
principle of education was sympathy, and truthfulness in 
my dealings with them. 

In the spring of the year 1803 our kind friend Mrs. 
Brudenell came to see us, accompanied by Mrs. Laycock. 
We had great pleasure in showing them all that was worth 
seeing in Edinburgh, and Mrs. Brudenell afterwards went 
with Mr. Fletcher to see a small property in Stirlingshire 
— Park Hall — which we wished to purchase. Their excur- 
sion extended to the house of Mr. Stewart of Garth, in 
Perthshire, where Mrs. Brudenell was delighted with the 
beauties of Highland scenery, and with the kindness and 
hospitality she met with. It was on her return home 
after this visit to us, and while at the house of her old 
friends Mr. and Mrs. Wilkie of Foulden, in Northumber- 
land, that I received alarming accounts from Mrs. Wilkie of 
Mrs. Brudenell's dangerous illness. I should immediately 
have gone to my kind old friend, but at that very time 
our eldest little girl was taken ill of fever, — so ill that I 
could not leave home. I thought it a hard trial, but it was 
afterwards matter of thankfulness to me that I could not 
be suspected of having influenced Mrs. Brudenell's mind 



3IES. BRUDENELL. 85 

in the disposition of her affairs at that time. It was 
when she was alone in a sick-chamber, at a distance from 
us, that she reflected how she owed all the happiness and 
protection she had sought since her separation from her 
husband to my father and his family; that she had no 
connections by her father's side, and that her mother's 
relations had never shown her any affectionate considera- 
tion or regard. It was from the force of these reflections, 
operating on a grateful heart, that she determined to leave 
the bulk of her fortune to the daughter of her earliest and 
dearest friend, my mother, and to testify her gratitude to 
my father for all his kindness. I believe that her affection 
for me personally was very great, but I always thought that 
it was as my father's and mother's child she left me her 
estate at Hebburn. She happily recovered from this ill- 
ness, and the nest summer she and my uncle and aunt 
brought our dear Miles (who had then been placed at school 
at Thorp Arch, near Tadcaster) to spend the midsummer 
holidays with us. We had then (June, 1804) removed 
from Queen Street to No. 51 North Castle Street, for the 
sake of additional house-room,' and a larger back green 
as a playground for the children. For their home instruc- 
tion I had then engaged a governess, Miss R , strongly 

recommended to me by Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton, who 
about this time established herself in Edinburgh. I was 
inti'oduced to her by our friend Hector Macneil,' and 
soon found in her a warmly attached friend. She was a 
woman of liberal mind, with much cultivation, with very 
considerable liveliness and quickness of apprehension, with 
great kindness of heart. 

In the same summer, and before they left us, Mrs. 
Brudenell heard of the death of her most unworthy hus- 

1 Author of the well-known ballad, " Scotland's Skaith," a poem worthy 
of all circulation, and of some other poems of merit. 



86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

band. She put on no mourning, she affected no grief, but 
she was greatly agitated, and deeply concerned to know 
that his last illness had given him time for reflection, in 
the hope that at the eleventh hour he had been enabled to 
make his peace with God. By his death she became pos- 
sessed of her hereditary estate of Hebburn, in Northum- 
berland; and, at her earnest desire, Mr. Fletcher and I 
accompanied her to take possession of it. I think one of 
the most melancholy days of my life was that on which I 
accompanied this once gay and light-hearted woman to the 
hills and ruined castle of her ancestors (the charter of the 
estate had been granted to them in the time of King John). 
She who in her youth had bounded over those fields the 
heiress of a fair domain, full of life, hope, and promise, 
now, at the age of 66, came back a shattered, feeble old 
woman, — without strength or spirit to enjoy the goods of 
fortune. She felt this incapacity of enjoyment with an 
intensity proportioned to the exquisite pleasure she would 
have had in being able to exercise hospitality, and to 
spread cheerfulness around her. Now she felt that it was 
all she could do to prolong a feeble existence. With 
this view she determined on spending the following 
winter at Bath, in the hope that a southern climate might 
do her good. 

In the winters of 1805 and 1806 I had much agreeable 
intercourse with Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton, at whose house 
I met with a greater variety of people than I had yet mixed 
with. She did much to clear my reputation from the polit- 
ical prejudice which had, during the first ten years pf my 
life in Edinburgh, attached to all who wei-e not of the Pitt 
and Dundas faction there. She had good success in per- 
suading her friends that Mrs. Fletcher was not the ferocious 
Democrat she had been represented, and that she neither 
had the model of a guillotine in her possession nor carried 
a dagger under her cloak. 



PUBLIC AND PRIVATE GOOD. 87 

In January, 1806, Mr. Pitt died. It was said that the 
battle of Austerlitz killed him. Mr. Fox was " sent for " 
to form a ministry. His healtli had become infirm, but he 
accepted the foreign department, with two purposes very 
near his heart, — to make peace with France, and to abolish 
the slave-trade. He tried to accomj)lish the first of these 
objects by sending Lord Lauderdale to Paris to treat for 
peace ; but the terms insisted on by Napoleon were such 
as could not be granted without loss of national honor to 
England. The ambassador was recalled, and all parties 
were united in prosecuting the war, confident that a Whig 
Cabinet would take the first opportunity of bringing it to 
an honorable conclusion. The second great object of Mr. 
Fox was most hapjiily accomjalished, — the abolition of the 
slave-trade. Mr. Wilberforce had labored in Parliament, 
and Mr. Clarkson out of it, with untiring perseverance to 
accomplish this great measure ; but even with Mr. Pitt's 
professed approval of the principle of abolition, the Royal 
Family and Mr. Dundas had overruled the Premier on 
that one point. It was reserved for the Whig Administra- 
tion of 1806-7 to have the glory and the happiness of put- 
ting an end to the British tr^dfe in slaves. 

In the summer of 1806, Mrs. Brudenell, always, even in 
her days of poverty, a " deviser of liberal things," carried 
out a long-cherished purpose of bringing together the 
friends for whom love and gratitude were warmest in her 
heart, to spend a few months round her in the district of 
England's mountain beauty. She engaged a house of ample 
size — Belmont, near Hawkshead, in Westmoreland — to 
which we from Edinburgh rei^aired early in June, Mrs. 
Brudenell joining us from Bath also very soon after, and 
Mr. Fletcher when the rising of the Law Courts in Edin- 
burgh set him free. The good uncle and aunt Dawson, 
from Tadcaster, came to us, with Miles in their company, as 
soon as his midsummer holidays began. 



88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

[To our deal" mother and to us this was indeed a summer 
of new, bright, and busy enjoyment. "It was," as she has 
written, " the first time that my children expressed any great 
pleasure in natural beauty. They had what they called a cave 
in a bit of ro«ky copse-wood behind the house, where they 

carried on all manner of rural devices when Miss R ''s stern 

school hours were over." Our mother understood too well 
the true child way of being happy to disturb our pleasiii'es 
near the home doors, by expecting us to delight as she did in 
the wider scenes beyond. A large Juljf sheep-shearing held at 
the Yew Tree Farm, a statesman's dwelling near at hand, was 
however a pleasure quite as much to her taste as to ours. We 
had our family picnics too, now and then to Coniston on the 
one side and to Windermere on the other, and to a little tarn 
which lay between Belmont and the latter, where we first saw 
the water-lily, and also the yellow poppy growing wild on its 
shore. But generally we were better pleased to keep to our 
devices about the cave, sure of our mother's abundant sympathy 
in them always, — and of her bright company often, at the little 
fruit feasts we used to get up there, or in a stone-built summer- 
house of the old-fashioned kitchen and orchard garden, which 
last made no small part of this summer's felicity to us. Her 
eldest boy Miles was always ready to mount a white pony pre- 
sented to him here, and called " Belmont " in honor of these 
happy holidays, and to canter off in any direction along with 
her for riding's sake. Our mother possessed no proper lady's 
palfrey either then or at any time of her wedded life, but she 
had nowise lost her early counvage and skill on horseback. It 
was a delight to her to return to the favorite exercise of her 
youth, and, quite indifferent to appeai*ances, she mounted any 
available steed that was to be found at the near farms, — the 
variety and quality of her stud giving no small amusement to 
the neighbors whom in her day's ride she visited. Of these 
the nearest were the Harden family at Brathay Hall on 
Windermere side, friends whose kind intimacy we have all in- 
herited. Mr. Harden, a true lover of nature, and well accom- 
plished as an amateur artist, was attractive to neighbors of 
all ranks and ages from the genuine and genial kindliness 
of his nature. Mr. Lloyd and his family then lived at Old 



WORDSWORTH. 89 

Brathay, also near us. Charles Lloyd was known beyond the 
Lake district as the author of some sonnets of poetic worth, and 
he was much beloved in and about his home from the gentle 
social qualities so fully inherited by and so dearly prized in 
his son Owen.^ A little more distant lay the abode of Dr. 
Watson, then Bishop of Llandaff, but who still made Calgarth 
on Windermere side his ordinary residence with his family. 
Lower down the lake, Fellfoot, then the property of Mr. Dixon, 
was a house of much social resort, and always, as our mother 
found, of pleasant intercourse, — Mrs. Dixon having an intelli- 
gent taste for bringing round her persons by cultivation, or 
pursuits, companionable to her and to one another. Our 
mother had always much to tell us on her return from the 
boating parties or indoor hospitalities of Fellfoot. Words- 
worth's dwelling in Grasmere was somewhat too distant for 
frequent intercourse; but an introduction to him was no com- 
mon event, and a day's visit from him at Belmont was among 
the very "white days" of this pleasant time. Our mother 
had, as she has herself told, led us all to share with her, so far 
as might be, in the good and the enjoyment of his verse. 
She used to record with pleasure that her younger son, Angus, 
not then above six years old, marked his interest in the poet's 
deep, sonorous recitation of his " Lines to the Spade of a 
Friend," by coming close to lyjr^ear, and saying, in an earnest 
whisper, "Do ask him to say it again." Wordsworth's im- 
pressive " Lines on the Expected Death of Fox," which belong 
to this summer, show that one subject of very deep interest 
common to him, and to both our parents, would not then have 
been wanting to the increase of intimacy if their neighbor- 
hood had been nearer. We can all remember the saddening 
effect, on our dear father especially, when the tidings came 
that Fox was indeed gone, and at the vei-y time when his 
country seemed to need him most. His " public passion " (an 
expression our father often used in speaking of him) had, in 
the feelings of those to whom his name had long been the 

1 Afterwards the pastor of Langdale, early taken thence by illness and 
death, but still well and affectionately remembered. His remains, brought 
to Langdale from the place — at some distance — where he died, rest under 
a yew-tree in the churchyard of the vale. 



90 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

symbol of enlightened patriotism, redeemed in some degree tlie 
errors of liis private life. Our mother has, in writing of his 
death, truly said — " The warm generosity of his heart, and the 
genial sweetness of his temper, left him without one private 
enemy." A few days after his death, she adds — "We dined 
at Calgarth (the Bishop of Llandaff's), when he, who had been 
the personal friend of Fox, on drinking to his memory, after 
dinner, pronounced a very true and eloquent eulogium on his 
character." 

Of another neighbor of this summer — an object of warm 
interest to her for many after-years — our mother thus writes: 
'' It was then I first became acquainted with Mrs. Smith of 
Coniston. She visited me in compliance with her daughter 
Mrs. Allan's request, but under the impression that she would 
find me a violent Democrat, and distasteful accordingly. 
However, it so happened that, bating the Democracy, we 
became great friends. She loved me in spite of my politics, 
and I both admired and loved her for the high principles of 
rectitude and honor which had supported her through many 
trials ; while the gracefulness of her manners, and the spirit 
and vivacity of her conversation, were most engaging to me. 
She lost her daughter, Elizabeth Smith, this summer. We 
were engaged to pass some morning hours with them ^ the 
very week before her death ; but she became worse, and the 
visit was deferred. Elizabeth Smith died, and when we heard 
from Hawkshead church-tower the sound of her death-bell, 
we regretted that we had not seen one who seemed to have 
lived so much with God."] 

Mrs. Brudenell remained some weeks at Belmont after 
my uncle and aunt left us. We accompanied her (on her 
way to rejoin them) as far as the town of Settle, and there 

1 The residence of Mrs. Smith at the time mentioned above was a small 
cottage by the road-side, near the gate of Tent Lodse, her well-known home 
in after years, on the banks of Coniston Lake. It was built soon after 
Elizabeth Smith's death, on a spot greatly delighted in by her, and where a 
tent had been pitched during her illness, in which was often her morning sit- 
ting-room, commanding (as the house raised " in memoriani " now does) cue 
of the tinest views in the Lake district. 



MRS. BRUDENELL. 91 

I parted for the last time with my mother's earliest friend, 
and one who certainly had a considerable influence in the 
formation of my character. She had a high moral stand- 
ard; and though there were many inconsistencies in her 
character, the generosity of her heart and the truthfulness 
of her gratitude were the prominent qualities that made an 
impression on me. She was full of sympathy, a most en- 
gaging quality to the young. She cultivated my taste for 
reading, as well as taught me to read in her little cottage 
at Oxton; and her sensibilities did not evaporate in senti- 
ment. She was a kindly friend to the poor, and by example 
impressed upon me early the force of a very favorite passage 
of hers from Beattie's " Minstrel " — 

" And from the prayer of want, and plaint of woe, 
Oh! never, never turn away thine ear; 
Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below, 

Oh! what were man should Heaven refuse to hear! " 

We all returned to Edinburgh in the October of this 
year, and Mrs. Brudenell died at Tadcaster in the Decem- 
ber following. My uncle and aunt followed her remains to 
Hougliaui Church, in Lincolnshire, where she was buried 
in the chancel, between the' graves of her two children, 
according to her expressed desire. She left me her family 
estate of Hebburn, subject to the debts and legacies speci- 
fied in her will. This was a considerable accession of for- 
tune, at a time when the education of our children made 
such increase important. 

\_Aunt Mary HilVs Wise Views on Education. 

" Grange, October, 1807. 

" My dear Niece, — I am very glad that you intend Grace 

should have her full swing (excuse the vulgarism) in reading. 

I know a very superior woman who laments to this day the 

starvation her mind underwent from the person under whose 



92 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

care she was placed, being possessed by the ill-founded preju- 
dice that a literary turn tends to give a disrelish for domestic 
duties. 

" Grace has interested us all very much with her account 
of Angus and Mary's little cave, and the full enjoyment they 

found in it. I wish you could convince Miss R , and all 

the friends to artificial and premature instruction, that one 
hour in this cave, employed in their own way, will strengthen 
their faculties and invigorate their minds more than twenty 
lessons. These good folks never consider that when the 
faculties of children are exercised with most pleasure to them- 
selves, they are receiving their best lessons, and that God Him- 
self is their teacher."] 

Our winter of this year was unmarked by any domestic 
event except Miles's entrance on the classes of the Edin- 
burgh College. My daughters went on with their school- 
room education under Misg R 's tuition. And here I 

must enter my protest against any one's continuing to 
tolerate such faults in a governess as may interfere with 

the happiness of children. Miss R was truthful, pious, 

considerate of the poor, and very industrious ; but she had 
a sternness and want of sympathy, a harshness of nature 
which made the school-room irksome, and which was alike 
unfavorable to the temper and to the happiness of the 
children. It was a great mistake to inflict on them this 
unnecessary discipline, and I have often bitterly regretted 
it. It was my custom then (not a very common one 
with Edinburgh ladies) to walk with the children before 
breakfast, they taking their little tins to get milk at a 
dairy-woman's field on the Queensferry Road. I liked to 
cultivate in them an early taste for simple habits and 
simple pleasures. These morning walks in spring were an 
emancipation from school-room rigidity, which they and I 
enjoyed together exceedingly. 

In the summer and autumn of this year we all spent 



LORD TANKERVILLE. 93 

some months at Hebburn. Our kind old friend Miss 
Forster exerted herself to get the house there furnished for 
our use ; and though it was small — little more, indeed, 
than a shooting lodge, built by Mr. Brudenell for his own 
use, and therefore by no means convenient for a large 
family — these months were spent by us very happily. 
Two Shetland ponies of small dimensions, whose arrival 
was a great event amongst us, gave our younger children 
their first experiences on horseback, and I often availed 
myself of Miss Forster's kindness by trotting over to her 
house at Bolton, a few miles distant, on the horse and 
pillion which she sent for me. Old Lord Tankerville spent 
that summer, as his wont was, at his baronial residence, 
Chillingham Castle, not far off, and, with his daughter, 
Lady Mary Bennet, had the courtesy to call upon us, and 
to invite Mr. Fletcher and me frequently to dinner. He 
was a fine specimen of the old English aristocrat, punc- 
tilious in the observance of courteous manners, strong in 
his regard for constitutional Whig principles. With this 
bond between them, Mr. Fletcher and he became good 
friends. He had that summei*,, for the first time, overcome 
a strong reluctance to the jmarriage of his eldest son, so as 
to receive Lord Ossulston and his beautiful young wife at 
Chillingham Castle. This was done at the dying request 
of a favorite daughter ; and his heart was softened and 
his happiness increased by it. He told me that he had 
disapproved of his son's marriage, not because his wife was 
a foreigner and without fortune, but because she had been 
educated amidst all the dissipation of Devonshire House, 
which he feared might make the union fatal to his son's 
happiness/ Another baronial Castle — that of Alnwick — 

1 This Earl of Tankerville purchased in the year 1807 the estate of Heb- 
burn, which adjoined his own estate of Chillingham, and added the wild 
part of Hebburn to his range for the celebrated white cattle. 



94 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

we were introduced to this summer, by Mr. Burrell of 
Broom Park.-^ It was worth seeing for once the stately 
remains of ancient hospitality at the Castle of the Percys. 
At that time, when the Duke of Northumberland was 
present there, a flag was every Thursday unfurled on its 
highest tower, as an invitation to any who had been pre- 
viously introduced to come and dine there. The gentry 
of the county did not slight this invitation. About forty 
guests sat down to table on the day we dined there. On 
entering the dining-room, Miss Forster pointed to me 
where I should sit — next to a vacant space. The old 
Duke was presently wheeled into the room, and his chair 
filled that space ; so I had much of his discourse during 
dinner : it was lively, courteous, and good-humored. He 
spoke, but not tediously, of his infirmity from gout ; he 
had tried, he said, every remedy for it, as he believed, 
except one, which, in the case of a friend of his, proved 
efficacious, viz., the bastinado. This had been applied 
to his friend when travelling in Turkey, and disabled by 
gout from descending from his palanquin to pay the re- 
quired homage to the Grand Vizier, and it actually cured 
him ! 

[The Hebburn summer had by no means the charm that 
belonged to our Westmoreland sojourn of the year before ; but 
it was a happy one, as our mother has said (for country life 
was in itself enjoyment), and for us children it had its bright 
days of adventure, too, out of the common course, one especially 
— an expedition taken in a cart, M'ith well-filled provision 
baskets for the day, the elders of the family party riding on 
horseback along by our side, all save aunt Dawson, who jolted 
along amongst us, leading the tune and words of the " Jolly 
Beggars " and other old ditties, given forth in full, if not 

1 A sister of Miss Forster, and, like her, one of our mother's early school- 
fellows at the Manor, York, was the wife of this gentleman. 



VISIT TO BAMBOROUGII CASTLE AND CONVENT. 95 

harmonious, chorus by all round her, to beguile the long 
morning's journey to Bamborough Castle. Our first sight of 
this fine old place when we reached it — the flash of the blue 
sea, and the rush of its white foam as the waves broke on the 
rocks under the Castle at full tide, and the long stretch of white 
sand and shingle which, at its ebb, lay between Bamborough 
and Liudisfarne, " The Holy Isle " of St. Cuthbert, — are not 
forgotten by us now; the less so, that the memories of this day 
as to scenery were richly brought back a few years afterwards 
by the vigorous poetic pictures of Scott in the finest canto of 
his " Marmion." 

In another excursion, one more soberly conducted, we also 
accompanied our parents to Haggerston Hall, then occupied 
as a nunnery, having been granted as a house of refuge by Sir 
Carnaby Haggerston, an ancient Baronet "of that ilk," to 
some French nuns who had been dragged from their convent, 
and for some time imprisoned in Paris during the Reign of 
Terror. They told us, but with no bitterness, simply as a 
matter of history, that it was only the death of Robespierre 
that saved them from being victims of the guillotine them- 
selves. After their arrival in England, and their establish- 
ment at the place were we found them, a Highland cousin 
of our father, one of the Miss Fletchers of Dunans, had taken 
the vows and joined their comjtjunity. She was permitted by 
the Abbess mother to see her lunsman and give kindly welcome 
to our mother and us for his sake. Sue had preserved a token 
of him (whether of familiar kindness or something tenderer we 
know not) — a Latin motto in praise of friendsliip — which, as 
she reminded him, he had given to her when they met last, 
or rather parted, after crossing a burn (for she noted the time 
and place) near her father's house. There was no reserve 
in showing this to him, which she drew forth from an em- 
broidered pocket-book, and we thought the sisters looked on 
very benevolently as she did so. We often recalled this 
visit to our Catholic cousin and the good sisterhood with 
pleasure. 

Of other matters at Hebburn, and other interests in which 
our dear mother led us cordially to share, the following letter 
to a much valued friend speaks in her own words: — 



96 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

To Mrs. Stark. 

" HliHIfUKN lIoUSK, NKAR BKI.FOItn, 

NdHTiiUMUKKLANi), July 2C>lli, 1807. 
" The kind wish you cxprossorl to hear from me, my dear Mrs. 
Stark, was too gratifying to be for a single day forgotten, 
although a fortnight has passed away since we arrived here. 
I wished, however, to be able to tell you how we liked our 
dwelling and all its accompaniments. Fate (as if to punish 
me for coveting your sequestered cottage) has placed us in a 
house at the sunnnit of a bleak, bare hill. It was built by the 
late Mr. Brudeuell, who pulled down an old baronial castle 
which ' tinui had spared,' and fixed upon precisely the only 
part of the estate which affords a prospect utterly devoid of 
pictures(iue beauty. The Cheviot Hills form our boundary to 
the soutli-west, and we hope it is no treason against the Epic 
Muse, if we rejoice that this far-famed scene of martial prowess 
is now covered with bleating flocks and peaceful shepiierds. 
The peasantry of this country are not less simple, though they 
are far less independent, than those of Westmoreland : we 
have none of that erect deportment and that proud civility 
we used to meet with in our wanderings last summer when we 
were obliged to ask permission of the .statesmen (ploughing their 
own fields) to walk through them. Here properly is in llio 
hands of the few rich. The country is thinly inhabited; the 
farms are extensive; and the cotter's hold of the farmer (not 
the proprietor) is a sort of feudal heritage. His cottage, cows, 
grass, potato crop, and some bolls of corn, are given him in 
exchange for his labor. His wife, or some one mem])er of the 
family, is obliged to work at fixed wages for the fanner the 
year rountl. This is called loorking l)on<l(i(/e, and it is felt as 
a great grievance by the people; but it is an ancient custom in 
Nortluunberlaud, and though attended with personal grudging 
and private feelings of oppression, which never fail to Imrt the 
character, it secures the cottager's family a maintenance, and 
there seems to be little abject jioverty or wretchedness in our 
villages. The village of Hebburn is a short mile from us. 
There has not been a school there in the memory of man. 
Last Sunday we assembled about twenty children in the remains 



Mil. JtOSCOE, LIVKIU'OOL. 97 

of th(! old ciiHtld, roiul ii little; !ii)|ir()|)ri;ito juldrcss to tliciii, and 
prcv!ul(Ml oil th«Ma to accoiripiuiy us to church, ahout a mile 
distant from the village. They had nevcfr been in any place 
of worship. Tlmir parents were chiefly Dissenters, and their 
chapels and tabernacles were many miles distant, too far for the 
children to travel barefooted; so they were suffered to run 
wild on Sunday. I was mucli jJeased with the li})er;ility of 
the parents; there was no l)ii^()try amonj^ them, for, thouj^h of 
many different pcu-suasions, thiiy all willinjfly sent their chil- 
dren to accompany us to the nearest ytlace of worshij). I'he 
children on their part were delighted ; most of tlicm could 
read ; and w(! agreed that 'the Sermon on the Mount' was 
good for us Jill. Y^ou would have been pleased, my dear Mrs. 
Stark, to have seen how earnestly my children took a part in 
this int(!resting project. Mucli did I wish for three or four 
whom 1 could name to have enjoyed it with us, and, b(,'lievo 
me, you were among the number. You [)erceive that, notwith- 
standing the bleak, bare hill, wt; shall contrive to be very 
happy. You will not, I am sure, refuse your contribution to 
make us so; do let me hear from you."] 

From Tad(rast('-r, in thci coui'so of tho summer IHOH, our 
eldest girl, Bessy, and I went to Visit an old friend — M iss 
Kennedy — in the neighborh,0ed of Manchester, and she 
made us acriuainted with the family of Mr. Greg at Quarry 
]^ank. We stayed a week with them, and admired the 
cultivation of mind and refinement of manners which Mrs. 
Greg preserved in the midst of a money-making and some- 
what unpolished community of merchants and manufaftturers. 
Mr. Grog, too, was most gcsnthimanly and hospitabh;, and 
HuiT()uud(!d by eleven clevfjr and w(!ll-educated (ihildi'cii. 
I thought tlicm the hai)piest iamily group I had ever siseii. 
Miss K«!nn(:dy also took me to visit \wx friends, the Rath- 
bone family, at Gi'cen liank, near Liverpool, and we there 
met Mr. Roscoc, the elegant-minded author of the " Life of 
Lorenzo de' Medici." Mr. Roscoe took us to his beautiful 



98 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

residence at Ollerton Hall, and charmed us by the good taste • 
of his varied and agreeable powers of conversation. He 
had been returned member for Liverpool during the Whig 
Ministry of 180G, and both he and Mr. Rathbone had taken a 
decided part in the cause of the abolition of the slave-trade. 
We were taken to see the last ship which had sailed from the 
port of Liverpool for trade in human beings. It was then 
undergoing a change for the stowage of other goods than 
those wretched negroes who had formerly been crammed 
in the space between-decks not more than four feet high. 
The iron hooks remained to which they had been chained. 
It was a sickening sight, — but those chains were broken. 
We stayed some days at Green Bank, where we enjoyed the 
society of the venerable William Rathbone, the zealous 
friend of civil and religious liberty. It was he, and Mr. 
Roscoe, and Dr. Currie, who by their personal influence 
and exertions established the first literary and philosoj^hical 
society at Liverpool, and induced their fellow-townsmen to 
think and feel that there were other objects besides making 
money which ought to occupy the time and thoughts of rea- 
sonable beings. 

For the summer of 1810 we took a pleasant country house, 
Frankfield by name, about a mile above Lasswade, on the 
banks of the Esk, where our eldest daughter, with the 
three younger children and I, repaired early in the spring, 
Mr. Fletcher joining us at the end of each week before the 
Courts rose to have his Sunday rest among us. It was 
here that Mr. and Mrs. Simond and Miss Wilkes, afterwards 
Mrs. Jeffrey, first visited us, introduced by Mrs. Craig 
Millar. Mr. Simond was a grave, misanthropic Frenchman, 
who had emigrated to America during the stirring period 
of the French Revolution. He was a man of refined and 
literary taste, became a merchant at New York, and mar- 
ried there a lively and agreeable woman, Miss Wilkes, a 



FRANKFIELD AND THE ESK. 99 

niece of tlie celebrated John Wilkes, the agitator of the 
early part of George the Third's reign. 

In the autumn of that year I well remember our watch- 
ing o)ie fine evening the expected arrival of our dear 
Miles and Grace from Yorkshire, and I could even now 
fancy I see their light active steps on the wooden 
bridge that crossed the Esk near to our garden gate at 
Frankfield. It was a happy meeting, and our Grace, 
whose love of home and love of nature partook of the 
poetical enthusiasm of her character, often mentioned it 
as one of the brightest spots in her happy life. She 
found her sister Margaret, then twelve years old, much 
advanced in companionable qualities, their tastes and pur- 
suits were similar, and her little sister Mary had all the 
beauty and the shyness of a most interesting chiM, the 
plaything of the family. The peculiar reserve of Bessy's 
character made me think that she would benefit by being 
thrown among strangers, and it was at this time fixed 
that she should go and spend some months with Mrs. 
Barbauld, where a new view of society, and the great 
advantage of living with that ?QOst excellent and highly 
gifted woman, might excite ^ler to more energetic as2)ira- 
tions after knowledge and all that was praiseworthy. Iler 
personal beauty at that time was most remarkable, but her 
manners were so cold and distant that she had few intimate 
friends, and yet she had deep feeling. I remember that 
she could hardly recover composure after reading the last 
chapters of " Clarissa ITarlowe." It was on a fine summer 
evening at this time, when we had just finished that power- 
ful book, and when our eyes were red with weeping over 
it, that we sallied out to talk it over, for we could think 
and speak of nothing else. We were sauntering about on 
a bank above the Esk called the Whinny, when who should 
we meet but Professor Playfair, his then pupil Lord John 



100 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

"Russell, Mrs. Apreece, afterwards Lady Davy, and Miss 
Hannah Mackenzie ' (a daughter of the " Man of Feeling," 
Henry Mackenzie). Mrs. Apreece had brought me a letter 
of introduction from Mr. Banks Cleaver. This very agree- 
able party returned with us to drink tea at Frankfield, help- 
ing us to forget the creations of Richardson's genius in the 
sparkling vivacity of Mrs. Apreece, and the taste and refine- 
ment of her companions. 

[Those of us who survive will remember our enjoyment of 
this beautiful locality, known to us before only by occasional 
visits to Roslin or Hawthornden. Our possession of the dear 
mother's daily company was more complete than in any former 
summer spent in the country ; and as that district was much 
less a place of villas than it has since become, the wood walks 
of the surrounding glens, with the steep banks of their streams, 
the tiny feeders of the Esk, were as quiet and free as they were 
beautiful. " Pauf/m " and even bathing in these "burns" 
were often incidents of our walks — to town children an especial 
delight. So was our intimacy with the whole succession of 
flowering plants that grew in those nooks, from the earliest 
primrose to the latest harebell. We never became botanists in 
any systematic sense, though (as our mother has recorded) 
" Sinclair Cullen, a grandson of Dr. Cullen, a young man of 
unquestionable genius, and of manners the most lively and 
engaging, used to come from Edinburgh as a frequent visitor, 
and gave us botanical lectures in those woods ; " but it was at 
Frankfield that one unfailing pleasure of life became a habit 
with us — to observe minutely in their own haunts, and thus to 
share the " innocent mirth " of wild-flowers. It was there, too, 
that we first held intercourse with the laboring people of our 
own country. Many of them not engaged in farming work 
were employed. in some paper-mills near at hand, but the hours 
of work there were not so long as in most other factory toils. 

1 This lad}^ died many years ago, and none who had ever known her can 
forget the ciiarm of her social intercourse. In this it was difllcult to .say 
•whether her play of genuine humor in conversation, or her quick sympathy 
and comprehension as a listener, were the most attractive. 



MRS. BARBAULD. 101 

The workers had time for the cultivation of their kail-yards, 
and for no small cultivation of their minds besides. The boys 
and girls came readily to some evening classes for instruction 
such as we could help our mother to give them, and we learned 
fully to respect the intelligence and to enjoy the conversable 
qualities of the elder people when we visited them at their 
frugal homes. Though we never returned to Frankfield as 
summer residents, it was long afterwards a pleasure to us to 
keep up the friendly intercourse of this time with a good many 
of our village neighbors. The kindly welcomes we found at 
the hearths of those we knew best well repaid the long walk 
we sometimes took from Edinburgh in frosty days of the 
following winters to see them, and to admire, hardly less than 
in summer, the glen streams of those parts in their garniture of 
icicles and frozen spray.] 

In December of this year I set out with our eldest 
daughter for London, where my old friend, Miss Forster, 
met us. Previous to my leaving Bessy with Mrs. Barbauld, 
I saw a good deal of that remarkable woman, — remarkable 
not more for genius, taste, and feeling, than for great 
elevation of mind, lively wit, and playfulness of fancy. 
Her manners were very pleasing, without the polish of 
fashionable life, but with rnuch of refinement and perfect 
good breeding. I wished my dear child to have a high 
standard of intellectual and moral perfection, and in placing 
her with Mrs. Barbauld I had my wish accomplished. I 
think it was Mrs. Barbauld's admirable essay on " The 
Education of Circumstances " that gave me so great a desire 
to place my daughter under the enviable circumstance of 
being her inmate. 

The winter of 1811 was not marked by any home event 
that I can specially remember, except that our son Miles's 
attendance at the Moral Philosophy class of the Edinburgh 
College was the means of making us acquainted with Dr. 
Thomas Brown, who had the year before been appointed 



102 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Buccessor to Dugald Stewart. Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton was 
still resident in Edinburgh, and at her house we always 
found most agreeable society, as well as at that of Mrs. 
Grant of Laggan, who two years before had established 
herself in Edinburgh, proving a great • acquisition to our 
little circle. The society of Edinburgli at that time was 
delightful. The men then most distinguished in social 
intercourse, alilce by literary reputation and amiable man- 
ners in society, were Walter Scott, Mr. Jeffrey, Dr. Thomas 
Brown, ]Mr. Mackenzie, Mr. Thomas Thomson, Professor 
Playfair, ]\Ir. Pillans, the Rev. Dr. Alison, and Dr. R. More- 
head. A little before this time the forms of social meetings 
had somewhat changed from what they were when I knew 
Edinburgli first. Large dinner parties were less frequent, 
and supper parties — I mean hot suppers — were generally 
discarded. In their place came large evening parties (some- 
times larger than the rooms could conveniently hold) where 
card-playing generally gave place to music or conversation. 
The company met at nine, and parted at twelve o'clock. 
Tea and coffee were handed about at nine, and the guests 
sat down to some light cold refreshments later on in the 
evening ; people did not in these parties meet to eat, but 
to talk and listen. There you would see a group (chiefly 
of ladies) listening to the brilliant talk of Mr. Jeffrey ; in 
a different part of the room, perhaps another circle, amongst 
whom were pale-faced, reverential-looking students, lending 
their ears to the playful imaginative discussions of Dr. 
Brown, — Avhile Professor Playfair would sometimes throw 
in an ingenious or quiet remai'k, that gave fresh animation 
to the discourse. On other occasions, old Mr. Mackenzie 
would enliven the conversation with anecdotes of men and 
manners gone by. It was this winter that Mrs. Apreece 
and Mrs. Waddington divided the admiration of the Edin- 
burgh circles between them, — the one attractive by the 



EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 103 

vivacity of her conversutioii, the other by her remarkable 
beauty and the grace of her manners. Her ehlest daughter, 
then an intelligent girl, was afterwards the wile of Karon 
Bunsen. I may remark that it was in tliis society that 
Lord John Russell, tluui the iinnate of Professor Play fair, 
used to spend some of the evening hours tliat he could 
spare from hard study. The enlightened philosophy of 
Mr. Playfair's mind, when brought into close contact with 
his own youthful asi)iriiigs, may have contributed to give 
Lord John's mind that high tone of political morality for 
which he has since been so distinguished. 

It was during this period also, when my children were 
growing up and able to enjoy variety of intercourse, that 
several P^nglish families of intelligence and agreeableness 
were attracted to Edinburgh, for the sake both of its society 
and the advantages it afforded as to education for both sons 
and daughters. It would be in vain now to enumerate all 
the new people that came and went among us, some leaving 
permanent friendships behind them, and others most kindly 
feelings and not infrecpient interchange of letters after they 
left Edinburgh. Among those Whose, acquaintance in those 
days ripened into friendship ^vrhich was contiimed without 
interruption to the close of her life), Lady Williamson, the 
widow of Sir Iledworth Williamson of Whitburn, sliould 
be especially mentioned. She had a house for many years 
in Queen Street, a few doors from North Castle Street. 
Her daughters attended classes along with mine, and a 
strong theatrical friendship was fornuul among our young 
people, both sons and daughters, wliich led to most pleasant 
meetings for rehearsals at our resi)ective homes. Lady 
Williamson's house was large, and one of the drawing-rooms 
was converted into a little permanent theatre during one 
winter, when the play of " Douglas," and some of Joanna 
Baillie's dramas were got up with great effect, and largo 



104 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

audiences sometimes gave their applause con amore. After 
the friendly family party left Edinburgh, we were always 
urged to make Whitburn Hall a resting-place on our way 
to Yorkshire, and frequently did so. The youngest Miss 
Williamson married the Hon. T. Dundas, now Earl of Zet- 
land, and she never failed in showing me the most friendly 
kindness in my dull Tadcaster life, when attending on my 
aunt Dawson. 

\_Part of a Letter from Mrs. E. Hamilton to Mrs. Fletcher, 
dated 1808. 

" I long to hear of your meeting with Grace, and of the 
improvement you found in the dear girl, and I know your ac- 
count will be a faithful one ; for this I can say of you with 
truth — that I have never known so fond a mother so perfectly 
candid and impartial, neither have I ever known one to whom 
I could so freely speak on the peculiar character of a child 
without any apprehension of being mistaken by her in what I 
said. This I consider as the greatest blessing to your children. 
It permits you to make use of tlie eyes of your understanding 
as well as your heart, and the consequences to them must be 
great beyond expression." 

Relating to my daughter Elizabeth, from 3Irs. Barbauld. 

"Dear Madam, — I cannot let Miss Fletcher make up her 
pacquet without adding a line to say — in truth, what I said 
before, yet a mother, I fancy, will allow me to repeat — that her 
child is well and lovely, and the darling of every one who sees 
her. I am every day more and more pleased with her intelli- 
gence and the justness of her taste, as well as with the sweet- 
ness of her manners. You would have been amused with a 
dialogue that passed between us the other day. We were 
reading Paley. ' But,' says she, 'I do not want all this evi- 
dence, for it never entered into my mind to doubt of any of 
these truths.' I observed to her, that there were those who 
had made objections and had written books against them, and 



LETTER FROM MRS. BARBAULD. 105 

that it might occur to her, at some time of her life, to be asked 
for a reason of the hope that was in her ; 'Bat,' replied she, 
with great naivete., ' I think it would be the best way, then, to 
read first one of these books that are written against Christianity.' 
You may believe I did not recommend one, but I felt the convic- 
tion that we do not even wish our children to inquire without 
a bias on their minds. Nor ought we ; if we think ourselves to 
be in possession of important truths, it is both i-ight and kind 
to impress them on the mind of youth without waiting for the 
uncertain process of their own crude reasonings. There is a 
great deal of unjust prejudice against prejudice. Miss Fletcher 
has no doubt told you that we have seen ' Berenice ' performed, 
and very well, at a private party. It is wonderful that a Play 
should support itself, as this does, without change of situation 
or anything that can be called an incident, and with the miser- 
able expedient of three confidants created for the sole purpose 
of being so; but ' Berenice ' has many pretty lines, which one has 
often heard quoted, and it has the remembrance of the interest 
excited by the loves of Louis XIV. and Mancini. The French 
Plays are better than the English for private representation, as 
they require no change of scene. I see, dear madam, you have 
been struck as well as ourselves with the uncalled-for severity 
of the Edinburgh Review againstmy niece — I say uncalled-for, 
because they were not reyiewin^her; and if they did not choose 
to bring her book before the pubhc, I think they had no right 
to bring her name. The cause of their unfounded sarcasm 
appears pretty evidently in the next page, where they mention 
Montgomery. I wish my niece had not inserted her address to 
that poet. ' They are too proud and too generous,' said Mr. 
Hamond, some time ago, when I was expressing a fear that it 
might influence their notice of her; but it has not proved so. 
I wish the Reviewers would ask me for a motto ; I could give 
them one from Shakespeare : — 

' And like the tyrannous breathing of the North, 
Shakes all our bucjs from blowing.' 

"I must have tired you, dear madam, with this long letter. 

•' A. L. Barbauld. 

" Stoke NEvvfNGTON, April, 1811." 

5* 



106 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

To her daughter Grace, from E. F. 

" Sunday Morning, November, 1812. 

" The Napiers leave town on Tuesday, and I must prepare 
my packet for you, dear child. Colonel George Napier is a 
most interesting and truly heroic man. It was Miss Craig's 
letters to her brother, so full of good sense and affectionate 
solicitude, that won his heart ; then her brother used to dwell 
on the sweetness of her temper and the goodness of her heart, 
and with his dying breath he besought his friend to see his 
sister whenever he returned to England. Under these impres- 
sions. Colonel Napier was in the truest sense in love ; and 
before he left London this summer, to fulfil young Craig's 
dying wish, he told his mother, Lady Sarah, that if Miss Craig 
corresponded with the expectations he had formed of her, she 
was the only woman on earth he could love. His mother 
sanctioned what the world would call his romantic passion. 
He came, saw, and was completely conquered. You may 
remember how deeply she was interested about him when she 
was here last winter. To hear him talk of General Moore 
would do you good, dear child; he was his aide-de-camp, and 
had been receiving orders five minutes before the General 
received his fatal wound at the battle of Corunna. Napier was 
at that moment sent to bring up some fresh detachments, 
and did not return in time to see him while consciousness 
lasted ; he was just expiring when Napier entered the tent. 
He said Moore's heart was broken, and that he exposed his 
person with desperate courage that day on which he fell, but 
that during all his misfortunes his courage, firmness, and 
magnanimity never forsook him, and it was only his peculiar 
friends who saw what was passing in his mind. Napier says, 
' We shall never look upon his like again.' 

"I hope, my dearest Grace, you enjoyed your last packet ; 
believe me, you cannot have greater pleasure in hearing from us 
than I have in preparing them for you. Your kind heart and 
affectionate attentions are a constant subject of sweet recollec- 
tion to me, and nothing pleasant occurs without my earnestly 
wishing you were here to share it with us. We ^hall hope to 
hear from you at great length by Mr. Marshall, when you will 



LETTERS. 107 

give us a narrative of all your proceedings, thoughts, feelings, 
and opinions. I expect much gratification this evening in our 
meeting with Sir James Mackintosh again, who is a man of 
very distinguished talents and great conversational powers. He 
has been for the last ten years in India. His conversation is 
full of interest and instruction. The account he gives of the 
Hindoo character is very curious ; he says in refinement of 
manners, cultivation, and politeness, they are equal to Europeans; 
that they talk of truth, honor, and moral obligation, as if they 
felt it, but that, in fact, they neither act upon these principles 
themselves nor expect you to act upon them. Sir James knew 
a Hindoo Rajah, a man of great acquirements and of the most 
polished manners, who, when he was disappointed in the collec- 
tion of his taxes of the sum he expected, ordered a pound of 
eyes to be brought him of those who had refused to pay the 
taxes. Such horrid barbarity can only be attributed to the 
want of the humanizing power of Christianity. The rites of 
Juggernaut accustom the people to believe that their deity can 
be pleased with human suffering ; how, then, can they be per- 
suaded that the exercise of cruelty can be displeasing to him? 
Mr. M'Neill dined with us yesterday. He has-just been on a 
visit to Walter Scott, and hears that ' Rokeby ' is a domestic 
tale : the scene, Mr. Morritt's Rokeby ; the time, during the 
wars of York and Lancaster.^ It will be published about 
Christmas. I have been mucli pleased with some of Crabbe's 
Tales — they are so true to nature, such beautiful pictures of 
the common and every-day joys and sorrows of humanity. 
There is not a particle of poetical romance in them, but they 

are often very touching. Pray tell Mr. S , with my best 

compliments, that since I saw him we have seen a speech of 
Mr. Fawkes, so full of wisdom, truth, and public spirit, that I 
am convinced the report of his being deranged is nothing more 
than a political calumny. I wish there were five hundred such 
madmen in our House of Commons. I believe we should all 
be the better for their measures, from the King to the lowest of 
his subjects." 



108 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Parts of Letters to 3Irs. Stark, 1813 and 1814. 

"Pakk Hall, 1813. 

" No changes have happened smce you left us, except that our 
autumnal tints are of a browner shade, and that we draw closer 
round our fire in the evening, and that our picture grows more 
like every touch we give the canvas. 

"If Grace had a temper to be spoiled by commendation, my 
delight in this picture would make her conceited; but though 
she has pleasure in the art, it is with her a very secondary 
pleasure — what she most feels is the reflected enjoyment she 
affords to me." 

To the Same. 

"December 15th, ISli. 

" I could not wi-ite till I heard of dear Grace's safe arrival at 
Tadcaster after a journey in the mail during the severest 
weather we have had this winter. She set off with Mrs. 
Macnab last Thursday. I cannot tell you what it cost me to 
part with her for so many months, for even your indulgence 
would condemn my weakness when so peremptory a duty 
required the sacrifice. Miles's illness and our consequent anxiety 
has i^re vented us from knowing what has been going on in 
Edinburgh since we returned, but it has given us frequent 
opportunities of seeing Dr. Thomson. He gives a sad picture 
of the demoralization of Paris. He thinks this is greatly owing 
to the unprincipled ambition of Bonaparte's government. It 
was a government of expedients and not of general principles, 
and, of course, no man of integritj^ could obtain or keep a situa- 
tion of public trust or national importance, because if a more 
enterpi'ising or bold adventurer started a more daring project of 
ambition he was always preferred, hence character lost its value 
and fidelity its reward. Dr. Thomson seems to think this cor- 
ruption of manners pervades all ranks, nor are the literary and 
scientific men exempted from it. It makes one sad to think of 
these things, dear friend, but I still hope that the great division 
of property in France will in time establish a middle class, and 
that this middle class will exercise a wholesome control over 
public opinion favorable to private morals and general happi- 



LETTERS TO MRS. STARK. 109 

ness. Dr. Thomson says there are now in France three millions 
of landed proprietors. We have been reading Wordsworth's 
' Excursion ' and Mrs. Brmiton's ' Discipline.' Wordsworth's 
Poem, of 423 pages quarto, has some exquisite passages, but is 
on the whole far too long. It is marked, however, by that 
high tone of moral sensibility and devout aspirations after good- 
ness for which his other works are remarkable. His hero is a 
pedlar, a Scotch pedlar, too, who carries his sublime morahty 
as well as his pack to the native mountains of the poet, and 
there holds converse with Wordsworth. The critics may sneer, 
but the lover of nature, and of mankind, will find much to love 
in the ' Excursion.' We are delighted with ' Discipline ; ' I 
will not anticipate your pleasure in reading it, but I am sure 
you will find much to commend. The saintly purity of Miss 
Mortimer's character is the finest illustration of genuine piety 
that I have anywhere met with in fiction." 

To the Same. 

"May 19th, 1814. 

" Although I have not written to you, my dear friend, I have 
been rejoicing with you in spirit and in truth at the great 
events which have immortalized the past month, and have given 
a new interest to the destinies ol mankind ; never again did I 
expect to feel the same interests in politics, the aspirations of 
hope, or the same confidence in national virtue. The precepts 
of La Harpe have not been as the good seed that was sown in 
stony places. His illustrious pupil, the good Alexander, has 
nobly proved the pre-eminence of virtue. How beautiful is the 
simple and unostentatious manner in which he has acted ! 
Joanna Baillie writes to me that when the Duke of Clarence 
asked the Duchess of Oldenburg what her brother would do when 
he entered Paris, she said in broken English, ' He will first tank 
God, and then he will seem as if he had noting to do in the 
matter.' Count Orloff told Dr. Baillie that he had on his 
estates in Russia about 40,660 peasants, all of whom could read, 
and most of them write, that they could carry their complaints to 
three different courts if they thought themselves injured, and that 
the expense of law proceedings would not exceed fifty shillings. 



no AUTOBIOGRAPnY. 

" We are now upon a visit to one of my earliest friends, IMrs. 
Laycock, in the sweetest of Yorksliire villages, where beautiful 
woodland scenery, the loveliest freshness of spring, and the 
happiest domestic intercourse contribute to our enjoyment. 
How I wish we had you in this pleasant village, where every- 
thing wears the aspect of gladness, and harmonizes with the 
festivity of nature in her gayest season ! An English village is 
in my mind the best commentary on the English constitution, 
the independence, comfort, security, industry, and opulence of 
its inhabitants are the blessed fruits of peace and liberty." 

From G. F. to her Mother. 

VISIT TO 8AEAII THE GOOD SERVANT, AVHOSE STOKY WAS TOLD IN 
THE FIRST PART OF THESE MEMORIALS. 

"Tadoaster, March, 1813. 
" ]\Iy dearest IMoTiiER, — On IMonday, immediately after 
breakfast, I set out on my delightful errand to Griinston. I 
happily escaped all our Argus-eyed neighbors, and therefore 
had the satisfaction of walking alone. 

'It was the first mild day of JIarch, 
Each minute sweeter than before.' 

Those beautiful lines of Wordsworth were strongly recalled 
to my memory, for there was in truth 'a blessing in the air.* 
I found Sarah alone in her cottage, excepting her little silent 
friend and companion, her infant's chair, which you know 
always stands beside her. She spoke much of you, and told me 
she remembered well the first day you went to visit her poor 
mistress. AVhen I gave her Lady \Villiamson's generous pres- 
ent, she seemed almost overpowered, and she told me after- 
wards, when 1 asked her to dictate to me what she wished to 
say I would write for her, that at the moment she received the £5 
her heart was so filled with gratitude that she could not speak. 
She said that, not having learned to write she could not indite 
properly to a lady, and I did not press her to do so lest it should 
perple.K her and make her tliink I doubted her gratitude ; but 
she repeatedly begged me to tell the good lady how very much 
she felt her kindness, for it had been a hard winter, and that 



VISIT TO SARAH, THE GOOD SERVANT. HI 

she was growing old now, and not able to work as she used 
to do. With admirable dehcacy she never mentioned her 
conduct to her mistress in expressing her thanks to Lady- 
Williamson, not even to depreciate it; she seemed to feel that 
touching on her own merits would have been like giving herself 
a claim to the generosity of the 'good lady.' When I told 
her that you wanted a picture of her, she said certainly, it was 
her duty, and without making one excuse seated herself where 
I wished her. I was delighted to find one human being at least 
free from vanity, for though Sarah was in her common working 
dress, she did not seem at all discomposed; she was much 
pleased that you should think of her, but did not concern her- 
self how she appeared. Indeed, she submitted to it as a sort 
of duty, and thought, as you desired it, it was the only 
little return she could make for all your kindness. When she 
had sat some time I told her I feared she would be tired of 
sitting still so long; with great simplicity she mildly answered, 
' Oh. thank you, I can sit still very patiently.' The sketch I 
have taken does not altogether please me, but as 1 have caught 
some of the expression of her countenance I will send it in the 
next frank. I should have much pleasure in introducing our 
good Sarah to Dr. Brown if he comes this way in spring, and 
can spare time. She is an admirable creature, when I see her 
in dress and manners, so simple,^juncultivated, and uneducated, 
with a soul filled with every excellence, and when I contrast 
her with many of the great worldlings around us, Shakespeare's 
words constantly come into my mind — 

' A ministering angel shall she be when they lie howling.' 

It is difficult to give in a drawing the peculiar expression of 
placidity and resignation in her countenance. This is another 
proof among many of the wretched limitation in human power 
when inspired — almost poetically inspired — by the character, 
the mind of the person whose countenance you are to delineate ; 
if, unfortunately, your pencil has not a sharp point and you 
have forgotten your knife, vainly will you seek to give to each 
varying beauty of the human face 'its local habitation.' 
There is great vexation of spirit in this, a vexation from which 
Sarah has been saved, as she cannot draw. 



112 A UTOBIO GRAF II Y. 

" Among the late subjects at the Forum, would it not be a 
good one to discuss whether accomplishments are of essential 
advantage to the happiness of rational beings ? and though for 
my own part I should much plead in favor of them, yet a good 
deal might be said on the other side of the question." 

Parts of Letters from Grace Fletcher to her Mother 
and Sisters. 

"January 15th, 1815. 

" When this reaches you, dearest mamma, you will be sitting 
with them all — Miles telling you about Bourtree Hill, and all 
those pleasant little minute histories so interesting to ourselves. 
It is your birthday, and they have all wished you many, ah ! 
how many, joyful returns of the day. I remember we used all 
to try to be the first to run into your room, and give you the 
wish, and receive the first kiss. I must content myself with 
being the last this time, but now from my heart do I send you 
my little tribute of affection. We enjoy at this moment, I 
trust, the only true happiness, the only happiness I think we 
much prize^ the wellbeing of those we love — dearest papa's 
good health, yours, and all of us; how few are so blessed — for 
a continuation of these do I hope and pray, and poor indeed 
after these would be any wishes of worldly benefits. Accept 
then, dearest of mothers, this best wish, and think of me on 
the 15th as thinking only of you. Dear aunty, she spoke of 
you this morning, with tears in her eyes — tears of love and 
memory. 

" Your kindness has furnished me with a great gratification : 
two or thi'ee days ago 1 received 'Discipline.'^ I have read 
the greater part of it twice over ; common sentiments of 
admiration and liking do not suit a book which is so uncommon, 
— a book which, independent of its interest, has jirecepts and 
opinions which must be chronicled in the mind, — a book, in 
short, the aim and object of which is so noble. I rose from 
the perusal of it better, at least in the desire of being better. 
l\Iiss Mortimer seems to me a character perfectly new ; hers is 
a soul and a spirit which sets commonplace at defiance ; how 

1 By Mrs. Brunton. 



LETTER FROM LUCY AIKIN. US 

beautiful is her tenderness, her piety, her generosity ! Mait- 
land is the only sort of hero I admire ; splendid, dashing heroes 
I cannot endure ; perfect heroes, such as my dear Sir Charles, 
are a little tiresome, not from their goodness, for it is unpleas- 
ant even in speaking of the hero of a novel to hear goodness 
objected to, but from the minuteness with which their chari- 
table deeds are related, which gives them the air of being busy- 
bodies ; but in Maitland, the noble intellect, the force of mind, 
and those feelings which make you know he must be good and 
charitable, with a certain (I hardly know what to call it) want 
of detail in the delineation of his character, present to us a 
being altogether admirable, altogether worthy of love. I like 
the manner in which Mrs. Brunton has treated the Highland part 
of the book. She has seized on those features in the manners 
and character of the Highlanders which are descriptive and pic- 
turesque, not those which are ludicrous. She has not taken 
from the nature of her picture by giving a too brilliant coloring 
to the scenes she presents ; she has mellowed the background, 
and touched the prominent and interesting parts with feeling 
and genius. To me she has as much surpassed the author of 
* Waverley ' in taste as she has in sentiment. Is it not more 
l^leasing to soar than to sink almost buried in the mire? It is 
as if a person in describing man said that he was an animal, 
prodigiously like an orang-outang-^ this is a bodily comparison 
taken" from the earth. There was a poet who, glancing from 
heaven to earth, exclaimed, ' What a piece of work is man ! 
in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a 
god ! ' This was a transient burst of exultation, not of arro- 
gant self-confidence ; thinking of great things must always 
make us humble, because such thoughts lead to the fountain 
of all greatness. But there is no end of these reflections ; my 
solitary musings make me very tedious, dearest mamma. — 
Fondest love to all. '^^ ^ • 

From Miss Aikin. 

" Stoke Newington, July 1st, 1815. , 
*' My dear Mrs. Fletcher, — I must not lose the opportu- 
nity of writing to you by our dear Grace, yet what can I write 
that she will not be able to tell you far better ? On one subject 

H 



114 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

only you will find her information defective, and that is herself. 
She never can, or never will, tell you how very much she has 
delighted us all by her sweet manners and most interesting 
conversation, and how deeply we have all regretted her very 
hasty departure, which has left us tantalized rather than satis- 
fied with her society. ' She is all soul,' says my father. ' She 
pleases me,' says my mother, ' more than any young woman I 
have seen ; she is all one could wish.' She is everything, say 
I, that I hoped and expected she would be, when I saw her 
three years ago at her own hor^e, already a being that I could 
make a companion and friend. How exquisite must be your 
feelings, my friend, who can look on such a creature and 
say. This is mine ; mine her manners, mine her tastes, her 
talents, her principles, her feelings. Who can think of you 
without envying a little the privileges of a mother of su?h a 
child ? 

" But you will expect me to quit this theme of domestic 
interest for those public events which nothing can long banish 
from a mind like yours. A\'hat shall we hope or fear, welcome 
or deprecate, for a nation where revolution succeeds revolution 
with a rapidity which baffles all speculation and all example ? 
For my part, I imagine myself sitting in a theatre, where, with 
eyes riveted on the stage, I watch with eager curiosity and 
intense interest the unfolding of a grand and complicated drama. 
Sometimes I smile, sometimes I weep or shudder, often I am 
surprised, not unfrequently disappointed; but through all 
successive changes I look with impatience to some end, some 
great catastrophe, which is to wind up all and show rae why 
this or that incident was made to turn so or so, and what was 
really to have been wished at such a particular point of the 
history. Meantime I scarcely feel justified in rejoicing or 
lamenting, and all my abstract principles seem to be swept 
away by the resistless current of events. Never, indeed, have 
I seen the friends of freedom in general so divided, so perplexed, 
so much in danger of falling into a dilemma on whichever side 
they speak or act. Bonaparte, the Republican General, was 
an object of fond admiration to all whom the atrocities of the 
reign of terror had not previously disgusted for ever with the 
Freuch cause and nation ; of those some ceased to wish him 



LETTER FROM LUCY AIKIN. 115 

well after the plundering of Rome, others after he deserted his 
army in Egypt, and all the consistent ones, as it appears to me, 
abjured him at last when he assumed the throne ; but some, 
either from a fanatical belief that he was destined to overthrow 
the Church of Rome, or from the habit and passion of opposi- 
tion to the ruling party at home, have clung to him in all 
fortunes. It was difficult for us to hail with cordiality the 
return of the Bourbons, and some acts of Louis have certainly 
tended to show that it was truly said that the family had 
learned nothing and forgotten nothing. On the late restoration 
of Bonaparte, which had something in it very imposing, it 
appeared as if the voice of the nation was again heard, and 
you were by no means singular in indulging a hope that a con- 
stitutional party would arise and convert this military despot 
into a lawful sovereign. I, however, cherished no such expec- 
tations. I expected that the Praetorian guard and their em- 
peror, if successful against their foreign enemies, would soon 
overpower the feeble resistance of the Senate, and I anticipated 
nothing in such a case but a restoration in full force of his odious 
tyranny, and ten years of bloodshed and devastation for Europe. 
]n the triumph of the allies and the expected second return of 
the old dynasty, I therefore rejoice as in the triumph of peace 
over war, a legitimate sovereign of mild character and pacific 
disposition over a soldier of fortune, insolent by temper and 
arbitrary by habit, while his rival is likely to be only haughty 
by birth and absolute in theory. If, indeed, a constitutional 
party worthy of the name survives at Paris, by whom will its 
voice be most willingly heard, by Napoleon the military em- 
peror, or by Louis the lawful king ? I think unquestionably by 
the latter. I even hope that he may find it his interest to 
throw himself into the arms of this only sound portion of the 
nation as a support against the enmity of the army, which I 
hope to see under his reign unemployed and consequently 
disaffected. That the last great battle has thinned its ranks 
I regard as happy for France and for Europe. Under the terror 
of such a standing army devoted to such a leader, could civil 
rights exist in security ? 

" Thus have I given you my whole profession of faith on this 
momentous subject, on which in general I think much and 



116 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

speak very little, conscious of my imperfect knowledge, and the 
many, many chances of erring in my judgment. 

" Grace will tell you that I am on the "wing for Brighton, and 
I every moment expect her to claim this letter with our reluc- 
tant adieux. — Believe me, ever yours, 

" L. AlKIN." 

To Mrs. F. from Mrs. Brunton, author of " Self- Control " 
and ^'■Discipline." 

"London, June, 1815. 

" G. left me on Wednesday, and has carried with her more of 
my esteem, as well as affection, than I ever bestowed upon any 
person in the same term of acquaintance. Perhaps I like her 
the better that she affords me occasion to applaud my own 
penetration. She is precisely the being I expected her to prove. 
She tempts me to the sin of covetousness ; and is, at this mo- 
ment, the only possession of yours, or any other person's, for 
which I am inclined to break the tenth commandment. If I 
do not absolutely, as the Catechism says, ' envy and grieve at 
the good of my neighbor,' I cannot deny that I have 'inordi- 
nate motions and affections ' to what is yours. I am ready 
to quarrel with you for taking her away from me before I had 
time to steal any part of the kindest and gentlest of hearts 
from you. I have seldom seen any one whom I was more 
desirous to attach ; but she is gone from me before I had time 
to counteract the ill impressions she would receive from my 
stiffness and my Calvinism. This last, you know, you gave 
me permission to expose ; and accordingly I have not concealed 
it. On the contrary, I have spoken out my convictions strongly, 
though, I hope, not harshly ; and have even solemnly adjured 
my dear young friend to give them her deliberate and candid 
consideration. 

" She will probably tell you this, and all which has occupied 
our discourse and attention. But she will not tell you that 
the modesty and candor — the singular mixture of simpUcity 
and acuteness, of enthusiasm and gentleness, which she was 
every moment unconsciously exliibiting, have made her the 
most interesting show which I have seen in Loudon." 



LETTER FROM MRS. BARBAULD. 117 

From Mrs. Barhauld to Mrs. Fletcher. 

" Stoke Newington, June 1M, 1815. 

" I must write, I must tell you how much I, how much all of 
us, admire your daughter. It is but seldom that expectations 
highly raised are gratified. The imagination has been at work, 
and the first feeling, at least, is disappointment, but I do assure 
you your dear Grace is everything I expected, and everything 
her friends can wish her. The stores of her mind are evidently 
large, her knowledge not vague, but clear and accurate, and 
generosity and sensibility seem the leading features of her 
mind. Her manner is, I think, equally remote from shyness 
and from a love of display, and has all the graces of youth and 
modesty. To this she adds all those obliging attentions which 
youth, confident in its attractions, sometimes neglects ; but 
now, my dear madam, do you think we can soon resign such 
a treasure, just look at it and say farewell? Indeed we cannot : 
and the object of my letter is to say that I do hope you will 
alter your intentions of having Miss Fletcher home so soon, as 
to our sorrow, no less than surprise, she talks of. So near 
London, and with your extensive connections and those of your 
friends, there cannot long want opportunities of an escort home; 
and if our own dear Grace can make herself happy here, I hope 
you will not refuse to let her prolong a visit on which we have 
thought so long and with so iiiuch pleasure; and now, I will 
say no more, but leave it to your generosity. 

"Are your friends in Edinburgh rejoicing or mourning over 
our late victory? I should suppose there are few families that 
have not lost some relation, some endeared friend, in the last 
bloody day. O what a pugnacious animal is man, and what 
prospect for Europe in so many hordes of fighting men, who, if 
they please, may cut and carve it amongst themselves. I 
should not wonder to see France divided as Poland was. A 
portion in the middle, perhaps, left for the Bourbons; they 
could secure nothing by their own prowess."] 

In the summer of 1812 Mr. Fletcher and all the family 
went to Yorkshire. The following winter my husband 
foimd himself less able for the labors of his profession; 



118 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

though nothing could exceed his industry, he became 
more frequently attacked by feverish ailments. He had 
weathered the political storm most manfully, without 
truckling either to judges and men in power on the one 
hand, or courting popularity by any subserviency to the 
party of the people on the other. He held his course 
right onward, and nothing could exceed his interest in the 
public good. It was always the subject next his heart 
and the most animating topic of discourse at his own fire- 
side in the midst of his family. He had no turn for 
frivolous conversation, and though no enemy to cheerful- 
ness, and most indulgent to the tastes and feelings of his 
wife and children, to whom I never heard him utter a 
harsh word or unkind expression, he was less personally 
disposed to mix in large parties than he had once been. 
In the summer of 1813 he was prevailed on to take his 
whole family to Park Hall, our small and most incom- 
modious dwelling in Stirlingshire. The interest he took 
in his planting and improvements at Park Hall led us 
after this to pass the greater part of five summers there, 
where he was free from the fatigues and cares of business, 
and by this means, I think, added some years to his valu- 
able life, as well as afforded him great interest and amuse- 
ment. Our summers at Park Hall were made cheerful and 
agreeable by the friendliness of our neighbors and the 
novelty of the situation. We were twenty miles from 
post and market, and I remember in the summer of 1813 
a man used to go round among the carnivorous inhabitants 
of the parish to ask if they would bespeak a quarter of lamb 
or leg of mutton before he ventured to kill the animals in 
question. There was a carrier once a week from Glasgow 
who brought our bread, our groceries, and our letters ; and 
often our impatience for news from the distant world 
made us walk miles on the Glasfjow road on fine summer 



FIBST SUMMER AT PARK HALL. 119 

evenings to meet the carriers, and the contents of the bag 
for the village of Balfron were turned out upon the road, 
while by the light of the carrier's lantern we picked out 
our letters and hastened home to read them. Balfron was 
a most lawless village. There was a cotton-mill in it, and 
the workers in it were among the best people there. It 
was illicit distillation that demoralized the district. The 
men of the place resorted to the woods or to the seques- 
tered glens among the Campsie Hills, and there distilled 
whisky, which their wives and daughters took in tin vessels 
in the form of stays buckled round their waists to sell for 
a high price in Glasgow. This fraud against the Excise 
led to many other frauds, as these poor people were 
tempted to steal the articles from which they made the 
whisky, and a gang of that desperate description lived 
upon the plunder of their neighbors' goods. One Satur- 
day night the contents of our larder were carried off by 
some of these marauders, and we were left to make shift 
for a Sunday dinner, but our hapless condition being noised 
abroad, legs of mutton, cheeses, butter, and all sorts of 
good cheer were heaped upon us by thfe neighboring 
gentry. These were divert-i'iig incidents at the time, and 
the summer of 1813 passed most happily away, although 
quite without the luxuries or almost the ordinary comforts 
and accommodations of persons accustomed to polite society. 
We had several friendly visitors, and among others, a 
distinguished stranger, the brother of my dear friend Mrs. 
Henry Erskine, Colonel Monro, who after a life of honor- 
able warfare in India had the year before come home to 
see his friends. Sir Thomas was a man of stern appearance 
but of most gentle and kindly dispositions, with great 
talents and high principles of integrity and honor. His 
sister afterwards told me that the object of his visit at 
Park Hall at that time was to sain our eldest daushter for 



120 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

his bride. He had the previous winter often met and 
admired her at Edinburgh parties, but the fates, or rather 
Providence, willed it otherwise, for she was then, when he 
came to visit us, on a visit to Mrs. Glasgow in Ayrshire, 
and there became engaged to Mr. Taylor. Sir Thomas 
married and returned to India, and died Governor of 
Madras. 

I have said little yet of my younger children, whose 
characters were by degrees becoming more and more 
developed. If I had any system in education, it was to lay 
as little restraint as was consistent with their good on the 
wishes and pursuits of my children. They equally shared my 
sympathy and confidence. I had no pleasures which they 
did not share, no amusements in which they did not take 
part. I thought that in making them happy I should 
make them good ; but I think I erred in encouraging 
amusements of too exciting a character, such as private 
theatricals and recitations. In dear Grace they had 
perhaps a tendency to increase an excessive sensibility and 
enthusiasm of character, which, while it made her a most 
attractive and delightful human being to every one who 
could appreciate her refined taste and varied talents, would, 
had she lived, have made her too susceptible to the dis- 
appointments of life. I think I did not help my children, 
sufficiently to strengthen their minds by self-discipline ; 
and though I endeavored to teach them the religion of 
the Bible, still I think their religious home teaching was 
too vague and unsystematical to impress habits of self- 
restraint and self-government from the fear of offending 
God constantly on their minds. To girls educated at 
home this is not an unsafe religious education, but to sons, 
educated as all men are by the world, it is not strict 
enough to enable them to avoid the seduction of the 
passions, and the evils of bad example, to which they are 



ON THE BENEFITS OF TADCASTER LIFE. 121 

so soon exposed. It was on principle, as well as from a 
feeling of deep gratitude towards the kindest of aunts, that 
I consented that my three dear girls — Grace, Margaret, and 
Mary — should take it each in turn to spend their winter 
half-year with my good uncle and aunt at Tadcaster. They 
all loved home intensely, and it was no small sacrifice for 
them to remain in a small dull country town with two old 
people, without variety, and with no society, or such as 
they considered worse than none; but such was their 
sense of duty, and such their desire to repay the debt of 
gratitude their mother owed to this good aunt, that they 
never complained, when their turn came round, to give up 
their happy home, and all the pleasures and delights of an 
Edinburgh society, which they could so fully and richly 
enjoy, but went cheerfully into their exile; and by 
frequent letters to and from home, cultivated an ease and 
liveliness of letter-writing which exercised both mind and 
heart. This was not the only use of these Tadcaster 
winters, — it abstracted them from the constant whirl of 
amusement in which other girls of their age were engaged, 
it proved a seasonable aid to reflection, and enabled them 
to live contentedly withou^-'excitement, for never did an 
expression of discontent escape from any of them under 
these circumstances. Fortunately they had no ready 
access to books of mere amusement, and were thus thrown 
on solid reading such as Miss Hill's library, aunt Dawson's 
book-shelves, and the York library offered. Another 
advantage this seclusion afforded was, throwing my dear 
girls among a different grade and description of people 
from any that they had been accustomed to. It is a com- 
fort to me now to think that my dear aunt owed much of 
the cheerfulness of her latter years to the interest she took 
in her young companions. The sweetness of her temper, 
and her exceeding indulgence towards them, secured them 

6 



122 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

from all trials of temper so far as she was concerned ; and 
then the joy of coming home more than compensated for 
the privations they had experienced. It was a good 
school for them ; it threw them on their own resources ; it 
gave them individually the happy consciousness that they 
were doing good, making their mother's best friend happy, 
and that at the expense of some amusement and pleasure 
which they sacrificed. It taught them to venerate old age 
in the sweet example their good aunt's happy temper 
afforded them, while by the useful employment of their 
time, they were making more solid acquirements than they 
could have found leisure to do in Edinburgh. 

On the 16th July, 1814, our eldest daughter was married 
to Mr. William Taylor, who then lived at a place belong- 
ing to the Earl of Eglinton, called Bourtree Hill. The 
marriage took place, as was then the custom among 
Episcopalians in Edinburgh, in our drawing-room in Castle 
Street, and the ceremony was affectionately performed by 
the Rev. Robert Moi-ehead, who was a colleague of Mr. 
Alison's, and had been a valued friend and neighbor of 
our family from the time he was appointed to the Cowgate 
Chapel in 1805. Mr. Taylor had unfortunately left the 
English Bar, and a life of considerable usefulness in parlia- 
ment, where he belonged to the party of Huskisson and 
Canning, for the sake of superintending some collieries 
which his father had left him, and which proved the cause 
of much after-embarrassment and distress. 

\_From Allan Cunningham. 

" London, April '20th, 1815. 
" Madam, — I scarcely know bow to address you after such 
a pause in our correspondence, and lest your eye should have 
forgotten my hand, allow me to forsake the common path of 
letter-writing, and say it is Allan Cunningham who writes to 
you — one whom you have honored with your friendship and 



LETTER FROM ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 123 

your counsel, and who never associates your name but with all 
the words that are generous and exalted and soul-warm in the 
language. Since I wrote to you last, I have made an important 
alteration in my mode of life, having forsaken the news- 
papers and returned to my original vocation. Do not attribute 
this to fluctuation of temper and love of change. It was a 
premeditated step, and my peace of mind, my health, and the 
welfare of my family, alike demanded it. When I left the 
papers I entered into the employment of Mr. Chantrey, a 
sculptor of eminent natural abilities, who intrusted me with 
the management of his work, and gave me a comfortable 
salary. With him I enjoy the greatest repose of mind. After 
observing all day the marble assume elegance and grace 
beneath the chisel of the sculptor, I return to a neat and 
convenient house, and amuse myself in cultivating cabbages or 
bachelors'-buttons till the twilight, after which I edify my 
youngest son, and sometimes my wife, by humming over re- 
mains of ancient song. This I hope is an amusement as 
harmless as babbling in rhyme, and as pleasant too ; and what 
heightens my enjoyment still more, is the prospect which I 
have of seeing you in Edinburgh in the course of a twelve- 
month, for we are carving statues of President Blair and Lord 
Melville for decorating your good town, which I will have to 
erect. My mind is now free fr^om the delightful but bewitch- 
ing entanglements of poesy. Acquaintance with the world has 
sombred the rosy and romantic coloring with which my youth 
had decked the vista of future years. It has given me right 
notions and a knowledge of myself, and pictured the path of 
my life with an austere but a truthful hand."] 

1816. — It was during this winter that we were led, by 
strong feelings of sympathy with dear Miles's happiness, to 
see clearly that his attachment to Miss Clavering, and the 
attachment he had inspired, called upon us to make some 
sacrifice to enable him to fulfil his engagement. Nothing 
could be more reasonable and less selfish than his feelings 
and conduct. When, upon being asked what he meant to 
do, he frankly avowed his engagement, and said — "I intend 



124 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to work and wait ; I know you cannot afford to make me 
a separate establishment." I should here mention, with 
contrition, how severely I felt Mrs. Taylor's misfortunes, 
not with thankful submission that no part of them was 
owing to any misconduct on her part, — that ought to have 
consoled me ; but it was my first great sorrow and disap- 
pointment, and, like the spoiled child of fortune, I took 
her reverses of fortune so desperately to heart that I 
seldom awoke in the morning without finding my pillow 
wet with tears. I was most rebellious under this dispensa- 
tion ; but it pleased God to send me sorrow in another 
shape, coming not through human intercession, but directly 
from His chastening hand ; and when that sorrow came, 
though I did not feel less for Mrs. Taylor's blighted pros- 
pects in life, the character of my grief was changed: it 
ceased to be rebellious, and was subdued by a feeling of con- 
scious impiety in having rebelled against the will of God. 

The winter of this year (1816 and 1817) was quietly 
and peacefully spent ; but as I have narrated it more 
particularly in a short memoir of my beloved Grace, 
written three months after her death, which happened on 
the 16th of April, 1817,^ I shall not here repeat the details, 
as the narrative contains more traits and characteristic 
incidents of the last six months of Grace's life than my 
memory would now enable me to supply. — Dated March 
6, 1844 

\_Letter to Miss Aikin, from Uliles Angus Fletcher. 

" April 19, 1817. 

" I write, at the desire of my dear and afflicted mother, to let 

you know of the irreparable loss we have sustained. It is not 

yet three weeks since our dear Grace was attacked by a fever, 

which soon showed itself to be typhus. The progress of the 

1 See page 341. 



ARRIVAL AT PARK HALL. 125 

disease was rapid, but Doctors Gregory and Thomson said it 
was not attended with any peculiarly bad symptom. On Sunday 
last she was much better, and on Tuesday so well as to allow 
me, with some comfort, to set out upon the Western Circuit. 
On Wednesday she became rapidly worse, and that evening 
closed her sufferings and her blameless life. When I tell you 
that we have lost Grace, I am sure I need not attempt to 
describe the affliction of this unhappy family. My father 
seems to have acquired strength from the necessity of exertion, 
but my mother's grief is at present beyond the reach of con- 
solation. Dr. Thomson was with Grace at the last moment ; 
till all was over he had not abandoned hope; he even thought 
some favorable symptoms appeared within the last hour, and 
when she did expire, her departure was so quiet that he could 
hardly observe the change. 

" Will you communicate this afflicting intelligence to Mrs. 
Barbauld and to Miss Benger? My mother will write to them 
and to yourself when she becomes more composed. I trust all 
those dear to you are well. — I am, yours faithfully, 

" Miles A. Fletcher. 
"North Castle Street."] 

At the end of April, 1817, yre all went to Park Hall. 
After such a sorrow, the return, to a place where Grace had 
been so happy, so useful, and so beloved was a new trial ; 
but the quietness and retirement of our country home was 
greatly preferred by all of us to remaining in Edinburgh at 
that time. 

"We all tried to support each other in the best way we 
could, and I had the comfort of seeing Mr. Fletcher regain 
both health and spirits while occupied with his farm. We 
were soon joined by our eldest and youngest daughters. 
Mrs. Taylor was at that time living at Newcastle, where 
dear Mary, under Mrs. Millar's kind escort from Yorkshire 
(where she had spent the winter), joined her sister, and 
they proceeded together to Edinburgh, after we had come 
to Park Hall. 



126 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

[Letters from and to Mrs. Fletcher on the subject of 
Grace's Death and Character. 

To her daughter Mary. 

"Park Hall, April 27, 1817. 
" Papa, Margaret, Angus, and I, "with Robertson and little 
Spinky, arrived here safe and well at 8 o'clock last night. It 
■was a fine day ; and if we could have enjoyed anything, it 
would have been the mildness of the air, the freshness and 
verdure of the country, and the beauty of the setting sun and 
■western sky. We have had the only refreshing sleep that we 
have got for nearly a month past, for having all walked for 
several miles at different parts of the road, we were much 
fatigued. We have been sauntei-ing about for three or four 
hours this morning in one of the brightest and warmest days 
I ever remember at this season. The little shrubbery that 
Angus, you and I planted, is thriving well, the garden in good 
order, and the Ayrshire rose, clematis, and woodbine in most 
luxuriant beauty. The woodbine near the little parlor window 
was planted by our darling Grace, when we came here on the 15th 
of June, 1813. You and Bessy will remember that we all 
arrived late on the night of the l4th, I and my four dear girls. 
It seems strange to me now that we did not then think our- 
selves the very happiest of human beings. I think we did 
enjoy the blessings of each other's affection, but we did not 
prize it half enough. What would we not now give to be as 
happy as we were on that 14th of June! These reflections, 
my dearest Mary, have no other use than to make us deeply 
and sensibly thankful for what remains to us. They cannot 
recall what we have lost. Tell dearest Mrs Millar that Park 
Hall is not gloomy, nor does it recall half so many painful and 
heart-breaking recollections as the house in Castle Street did, 
where the sound of her mournful and delirious voice was never 
absent from my mind one moment. She is here indeed, and 
must be canied everywhere in my heart, as long as it shall 
beat; but she is here, tranquil and happy, such as I saw her 
two years ago when she arrived from London. Your father's 
health will be greatly improved by coming here, and so will 



LETTER FROM REV. J. CLOWES. 127 

dear Margaret's, whose paleness and melancholy have sometimes 
alarmed me, though she has made the most wonderful efforts to 
support us all. I have had a very excellent and gratifying 
letter from Miss Clavering, and indeed if sympathy could have 
availed us, we have met with more than I can tell you. It 
has been soothing, as a testimony to the virtues of your sister, 
which, modest and unobtrusive as they were, seem to have 
been noted in a remarkable degree. My dear child, do not 
afflict yourself about us : you will find your father and me 
wonderfully composed, and your and Bessy's coming is a joyful 
anticipation to us all. We long, too, to see dear httle Archy 
also." 

Copy of a Letter from the Rev. J. Clowes to Mrs. Fletcher, 
on Grace's Death. 

"Manchester, May IZ, \2>Vl . 
"My dear Madam, — A few days ago our excellent friend 
Miss Kennedy brought me a letter which she had lately 
received from you, from which I soon perceived that your pen 
was dipped in tears, and that you rank at present amongst the 
number of those blessed ones who are distinguished by the holy 
title of mourners in Zion. L^-me not then be thought an 
impertinent intruder into the sanctuary of your sorrows, if I 
wish "on this occasion to mingle my tears with yours, by 
entering into partnership with you, both in your afflictions and 
in all those heavenly consolations which the Father of Mercies 
never fails to mix in the cup of His afflicted children. Charity, 
we know, which is the spirit of heaven, is never so happy as 
in the opportunity of pouring into the troubled bosom the oil 
of joy and gladness, and we know at the same time that this 
oil comes only from the God of heaven, whose high and holy 
name is Jesus Christ. I might therefore say to you, as the 
king of Israel said to a mourner in his day, ' If the Lord do 
not help thee, whence should I help thee ? ' Nor should I con- 
ceive that the words contained anything of repulsion or of dis- 
couragement, for is not our God a present help in trouble, and 
do not all His dispensations as well as His declarations prove 
Him to be so ? Is He not also above all trouble, and this in 



128 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

such a sort, that He not only controls it, by saying to its 
waves, ' Hitherto shall ye go, and no further? ' but He also 
compels it to administer to His own purposes of blessing, so 
that every trouble ojjens the gate of some new joy, which 
otherwise coixld neither have been seen nor tasted. I please 
and flatter myself with thinking that you have already ex- 
perienced the truth of this sentiment, and that even in the loss 
of your dear child (if it may be called a loss) you have found 
a more than proportionable gain, through the connnunication 
and admission of some heretofore unknown consolation. And 
how do you know but that your dear child may have been the 
minister of that consolation? We cannot indeed see with our 
bodily eyes that this has been the case, but the eye of faith 
we know possesses a more quick and penetrating vision, and 
being enlightened by the light of this eternal truth, sees things 
as they are, not as they appear to be. To the eye of faith 
therefore the invisible world is near and visible as this world 
is to the eye of the body, and therefore it sees all that the 
Word of God has revealed respecting that invisible world, and 
how the souls or spirits of the deceased are still alive, even 
more alive than when in the material body, and also are still 
near to those they loved and by whom they were loved, and 
even nearer than heretofore ; and further, that they are 
endowed with greater power, as well as stronger inclination 
to comfort, support, and protect those whom they have left 
behind them. Jesus Chiist accordingly informs His disciples, 
previous to his departure out of the world, ' It is expedient 
for you that I go away, for if I go not away, the Comforter 
will not come unto you ; but if I go away I will send Him unto 
you:' and again, 'I go away and come again unto you;' 
thus instructing them that although He was leaving them as 
to bodily presence, yet He would still be virtually and really 
present with them as a Holy Comforter, to guide, protect, 
and console them. Doubt not therefore, my dear madam, that 
■what was true respecting Jesus Christ is true also respecting 
His children, so that when they quit this world they enter 
immediately into a state of being in which the capacity of 
intercourse and of blessing is indefinitely increased. In devout 
prayer that you may feel all the comfort of this sentiment, and 



LETTER FROM JOANNA BAILLIE. 129 

still enjoy both the presence and the society of your beloved 
child, I remain, dear Madam, affectionately yours, 

"J. Clowes." 

Joanna Baillie to Mrs. Fletcher. 

''June Both, 181T. 
" I -wrote to our friend Miss Millar some considerable time 
after your severe loss, to inquire for you and Mr. Fletcher and 
the family, and had the satisfaction to hear by her answer as 
good an account of you as I could expect. May I now be 
permitted to make inquiries immediately of yourself.!" — not, 
however, expecting an answer from your own pen , if it should 
be painful to you, but only hoping that Mrs. Taylor (who, I 
learn, is with you), or some member of the family, will have 
the goodness to send me a few lines. Your sorrow for the 
loss of a child so excellent in head, heart, temper, — in every- 
thing that is most desirable in one of God's children, — has 
been sympathized with in no common degree. It has been a 
sensation deeply felt by many, who on their own account also 
lamented the sad event. I have never known any young per- 
son so universally admired and beloved, and few, I believe, have 
lived in the world, unconnected with any remarkable circum- 
stance, that will be so long and s^, tenderly remembered. This 
is soothing to your grief; and with the greatest of all consola- 
tion — the hopes of rehgion — and the family blessings that are 
spared to you still, your heart cannot be desolate, but must be 
comforted. May you indeed feel every comfort and consolation 
that your heavy affliction will admit ! My sister begs to join 
me in condolence and all kind wishes to you and Mr. Fletcher, 
Mrs. Taylor, and all the family. I hoped to have heard of you 
last week by Mrs. Barbauld, but I was prevented from going to 
Newington, which I regretted. Dr. Aikin's recovery from 
such a decided palsy, a recovery so speedy and so complete, at 
his advanced age, is extraordinary. Mrs. Barbauld's spirits 
are quite raised by it, for at the first, I understand, she 
was like one stunned and knocked down. How few brothers 
and sisters have been to one another what they have been 
through so long a course of years ! When they must part, it 
will be a dismal thing- for the survivor. ' ' 



130 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



From Mrs. Barhauld, on G. F.'s death, to her Mother, 1817. 

" It has been the impulse of my heart to write to you, and 
yet I hardly know how. What can I say, how can I express 
the shock this awful, this most affecting event has given me, 
has given all of us? How are the fairest hopes destroyed, 
how are the dearest ties severed ! when was the uncertainty 
of life, and all its hopes, exemplified in a more solemn manner? 
Dear Grace? I had hoped myself some time, perhaps this 
summer, to see more of her, to see her open the stores of her 
mind, to see the modest flower expand and show all its lustre; 
but it is shut up for ever here, to blow, I trust, in a brighter 
climate. Young as she was, she has seen perhaps the best of 
life. Like Young's Narcissa, ' she sparkled, was exhaled, and 
went to heaven.' No long sickness to wear the mind as well 
as the body; none of the decays incident to a more advanced 
period; she leaves life, it is true, in all its freshness, but with- 
out having tasted its cares or sorrows. And is it not something 
to have raised and cultivated such a mind? Is she not fitter 
for another state, with higher powers than many a one who 
has passed sixty years of a drowsy existence? Oh, but I think 
I hear you say, the mother's heart must bleed. It must ; I 
know it. God comfort you, my dear Mrs. Fletcher, and Mr. 
Fletcher, and all your family ! Your mind will turn, I know 
it will, to the promising children yon still have. One jewel 
has fallen from your maternal crown, but many remain; you 
are still rich. May God enable you to bear what He has laid 
upon you ! " 

To Mrs. Stark. 

"Park Hall, April mh, 1817. 
*' My dear Friend, — I do know what you have all felt for 
us, for you were among the few who knew what we have lost. 
Your kindness in offering to come to me at that dreadful time 
will never be forgotten. Time may and will do much, not in 
removing her from our hearts, but in enabling us to take an 
interest in pi-esent things, and softening those recollections 
which are now so overpowering. Even now you — no, not you, 



LE TTERS TO MRS. STARK AND MISS AIKIN. 131 

bat those who do not know what gi'ief is; grief made up of 
tenderness and affectionate sorrow without one atom of bitter- 
ness — would be astonished at our composure, and doubt whether 
we had yet begun to feel. Yes, my dear friend, I must see 
you at Park Hall. Perhaps you can come to us the latter end 
of next week, when Mr. Fletcher and my sons return to Edin- 
burgh to meet Bessy and Mary, who are to join us here about 
the 16th of May. Bessy and her children are to spend the 
summer with us, and our poor Mary needs the comfort of her 
home, such as it now is. She is a very precious child, and 
Margaret — my generous, kind-hearted Margaret — what should 
we have done without her ? God Almighty bless you! Write 
to me, dear friend. — Yours, E. Fletchek." 

From Mrs. Fletcher to Miss Aikin. 

" Park Hall, June 23d, 1817. 

" If I were to delay writing to my dear Miss Aikin till my 
paper should be unblotted by my tears, I know not when I 
should write to her. 

" I have to the utmost of my power, both for my own sake 
and for the sake of those who are very dear to me, resisted all 
unreasonable indulgence of grief. I have endeavored to 
derive consolation from all those,^x5hsiderations which you and 
the rest of my affectionate and sympathizing friends have 
suggested — from the elevation of her character, from her 
purity, sweetness, and heavenly-mindedness ; but there is so 
much tenderness associated with every recollection of her life, 
that my very pleasures are now so many sorrows, since she can 
no longer share them with me. Perhaps, there never was a 
human being so much alive to enjoyment. This is a feeling 
of thankfulness of which nothing can deprive me — the un- 
alloyed happiness of her life. There never was one so ardent 
and so sensitive who knew so little sorrow. Had she lived, 
this uninterrupted happiness, could not have continued, but 
this, while it ought to reconcile me to the dispensations of 
Providence, and while it takes from my loss all its bitterness, 
adds powerfully to the tenderness of my regrets. The energy 
and activity of her mind during the last six months of her 



132 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

life were remarkable. She had applied herself diligently to 
Italian literature. She painted two portraits, one the copy of 
a picture of young Wolfe Tone, and one of her father, which 
last however she did not live to finish. She passed several 
hours during three days of the week in the superintendence of 
a Female Lancasterian School, and enlivened our domestic 
circle by her invariable sweetness and cheerfulness of temper. 
At her special request (made in consideration of her father's 
delicate state of health) we neither gave nor accepted, of invi- 
tations to large parties during the whole winter, but enjoyed 
the society of more intimate friends. She was truly grateful 
for your distinguished kindness, and loved you with the sin- 
cerest affection. With what pleasure and exultation she anti- 
cipated the success of your historical work, and how proud 
she was of your friendship ! She used to speak of her visit at 
Stoke Newington as the most gratifying period of her life, and 
repeatedly thanked me the very week before she was taken 
ill for having promoted that journey ; but home and home 
affections were her delights. The support I received from my 
dear Margaret during that miserable fortnight can never be 
described. She is worthy of your regard, worthy of having 
had such a sister."] 

Miss Clavering and her brothers paid us a visit that 
summer at Park Hall, 1817, and arrangements were made 
for her marriage to our dear son Miles, which was to take 
place in the December following. Miles's tenderness of 
feeling came out towards me in a marked manner during 
this mournftd summer, and contributed much to soothe my 
grief. 



PART III. 

On the 27tli December, 1817, Miles and Miss Clavering 
were married at Ardincaple Castle, Lord John Campbell's 
residence. Lady Augusta Clavering and her daughter had 
lived there for some years- 
Miles took his very lovely bride from this lordly castle 
to his father's homely dwelling at Park Hall, where they 
remained until the winter Session began, when they took 
possession of the house in Queen Street which had been 
settled on them as part of the dowry by Lady Augusta, 
who showed great kindness to and sympathy with her 
daughter in this marriage of affection. 

We mixed little that winter, of 1817-18 in general 
society, and went as early as we could to spend the last 
summer we were to be at Park Hall. Mr. Fletcher found 
it was most expedient to part with that property. It 
involved him in money difficulties, having now more claims 
upon him than he could easily meet. Miles, on whose 
account he chiefly wished to retain this estate, assisted me 
much in persuading his father to sell it ; and we both 
rejoiced in the repose of mind which was gained by parting 
with this favorite but expensive farm. 

My husband continued to take the liveliest interest 
in public affairs, and employed his daughters by turns 
in writing for him, both on Burgh Reform and other 
subjects, to his dictation, after he gave up his clerk. In 



134 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

this way he was of use to many poor clients who consulted 
him, and prevented many lawsuits by advising them to 
arrange their affairs' by arbitration. And here I must 
remark, how much it contributes to happiness and indepen- 
dence of mind in aged persons to have some object of 
science or literature that lightens the lassitude of daily life, 
and gives animation to existence beyond the family circle, 
when age or infirmity prevents any active participation 
either in the business or the pleasures of life. 

The science of politics, which, according to my husband's 
views, may be called the wellbeing of mankind on earth, 
when unmixed with sordid or selfish aims, seems to me to 
elevate the mind above every other science. I mean that 
enlarged view of political wisdom which is unfettered by 
party spirit, untainted by selfish or personal views, and 
has its foundation in a profound love of mankind, and a 
desire to promote, not only their happiness, but their moral 
and spiritual good, by keeping justice and mercy constantly 
in view. Such were my husband's politics ; and neither 
age nor infirmity abated the interest he took in every 
measure which had public good and enlightened freedom for 
its object. 

[These remarks were written in 1844 ; and such being her 
feeling about my father's public life, it may be imagined with 
what delight she afterwards read the cordial tribute to his 
character in Cockburn's " Life of Jeffrey," and also in the 
" Memorials of his Time." I seem to see her countenance before 
me, as one of my brightest recollections, when I read to her, 
in May, 1856, the following sentence fi'om the 261st page of 
Lord Cockburn's book: — " The pure and hei'oic Fletcher knew 
not what jealousy was, and would have cheered on a personal 
enemy, if he had had one, provided he was going before him in 
the public cause." 

In looking back on our father's dignified and benevolent old 
age, I think none of his children can recollect a single expression 



LONDON SOCIETY, MRS. FRY AND NEWGATE. 135 

of wounded pride or disappointed ambition escaping from him 
in the ahnost daily discussion of public events, great or small, 
■which took place in our family circle. 

During the few years we remained in Edinburgh after the 
first great sorrow of her life, Grace's death, our mother with- 
drew in great measure from general society and large parties, 
and gave the time and strength thus gained to an increased 
occupation among the poor and needy. During this time 
she gave much time to attendance at the office of the Beg- 
gars' Society, where the benevolent John Forbes (afterwards 
Lord Medwyn) and she first came into close personal acquaint- 
ance. 

My mother used to say it was very pleasant to her to see 
the good Tories she met there smile upon her in her endeavors 
to do good, and how much even party rancor died away in the 
common interest felt in the sufferings of the poor.] 

During this summer of 1819, Margaret, Mary, and I 
went to London; Mr. Fletcher preferred remaining at 
Tadcaster. We saw many very interesting people. We 
passed some days of great interest with dear Mrs. Barbauld 
at Stoke Newington, admiring her for her genius, and 
loving her for the truthfulness and kindliness of her dis- 
position and the sweetness of her manners. We had also 
the privilege of passing some days with Joanna Baillie and 
her sister, at Hampstead. The remarkable simplicity of 
Joanna's manners, and entire absence of all pretension, 
struck my daughters much, and while they were awed by 
the meekness with which she bore her faculties, they 
admired and loved her. Mrs. Opie and Jane Porter also 
passed before us, as dissolving views ; along with the 
Smiths of " The Eejected Addresses," the Miss Berry s and 
Sir Lumley Skeffingtons of the day. It was on this visit 
to London that we had the happiness to pass some hours in 
Newgate with Mrs. Fry. We heard her read and expound 
to the female prisoners the third chapter of St. John's 



136 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Gospel. Her voice was melody itself, and tlie earnest 
sweetness with which she explained the doctrine of re- 
generation to her attentive hearers found its way directly 
to their hearts ; many of them shed tears, and all were 
attentive and appeared deeply interested. She conducted 
us through the different wards. The women flocked round 
her, several of them telling her their little wants, and 
expressing their gratitude for what she had told them. 
She lent a kindly ear to their complaints, and it was plain 
her sympathy and kindness did them good. The faces 
of many who did not speak revealed this. Robert Owen, 
the notorious socialist, accompanied us to Newgate. He 
was then intimate with Mrs. Fry, and we had known him 
for many years. He had always appeared to us a benev- 
olent and zealous reformer, and we bore with the intense 
though quiet egotism of his conversation from the belief 
that he had the good of his fellow-creatures at heart. He 
had not then openly avowed those opinions, so fatal to 
moral and religious truth and happiness, which he has 
since so unfortunately promulgated. It would be mifair 
perhaps to refuse him credit for wishing to promote the 
present good of mankind, but when he cannot but perceive 
that a consideration for present good, even when accom- 
panied by a belief in a Divine Judge, is not sufficient to 
enable man to regulate his passions and abstain from evil, 
how is it likely that when those restraints are removed, as 
Owen desires, the sovereignty of reason alone, a vegetable 
diet, and one loose garment, will transform the human race, 
as he expects, from misery to happiness ? 

The same day we visited Newgate Robert Owen took us 
to call on William Godwin, the celebrated author of " Politi- 
cal Justice." Godwin, then an interesting-looking old man, 
lived at a small bookseller's shop on Ludgate Hill, with a 
figure of ^sop above the door. "We sat half an hour with 



LORD ERSKINE'S VISIT TO EDINBURGH. 137 

this mild philosoplier. His countenance was benevolent, 
as were his writings. Thirty years before the time we saw 
him, his " Political Justice " was thought to have allayed 
the insurrectionary fever produced, as some imagined, by 
the writings of Thomas Paine ; but now that the days of 
alarm were over, Godwin was more known as the author 
of " Caleb Williams " and " St. Leon " than as a political 
writer. He had a beautiful portrait of Mary Wollstone- 
craft, by Opie, above the chimney-piece of his little parlor. 
We were pleased with our interview with this distinguished 
man and very eloquent writer. 

We all rejoined Mr. Fletcher, well satisfied with the 
sights of London and its environs. Dear Mary remained 
that winter with our aunt. 

\_To her daughter Mary from E. F. 

" Edinburgh, January, 1820. 

" We despatched the Scotsman for you on Saturday, which 
would afford you much amusement. We have been greatly 
complimented and congratulated by our friends on your father's 
appearance at the meeting in honor of Lord Erskine's arrival 
in Edinburgh. Miles says tha:t when his father appeared there 
on the platform there were thunders of applause, and his 
speech was much cheered, especially that part of it relating to 
his being one of the thirty-eight who had the honor of voting 
for the Honorable Henry Erskine, when he was expelled from 
the Deanship of the Faculty of Advocates because he presided 
at a public meeting held to petition against the continuation of 
the war. 

" On Friday morning we were honored by a visit from Lord 
Erskine. He sat with us more than an hour, and was very 
agreeable and entertaining. He has a strong family Hkeness 
to his late brother, ^ but is less gay, bland, and engaging : his 
countenance bears strong marks of a life of great emotion, — 
of much wear and tear. He is less courteous than his brother 
1 Honorable Henry Erskine. 



138 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ITenry ; his manners are plainer. We talked of the State trials 
in which he was formerly engaged. He asked me if I had 
ever read his speech on the trial of Williams, the publisher of 
Paine's ' Age of Reason.' He was engaged by the Society 
for the Prevention of Vice as counsel for the prosecution. He 
got a verdict against Williams, which .proved, he said, that there 
was no occasion to make new laws against blasphemous publi- 
cations. A few days after the trial, as he was walking through 
llolborn, a woman seized him by the skirts of his coat, and 
dragged him to a miserable room, where Williams the book- 
seller was laid on a sick-bed with three children in the confluent 
small-pox. He was so much struck with the poverty and 
wretchedness of the man's condition that he wrote to the Society 
for the Prevention of Vice, telling them that, a^s they had 
gained a verdict prohibiting the sale of Paine's blasphemous 
book, now there was a noble opportunity to show a truly 
Christian spirit, by praying the Court to mitigate the punish- 
ment of this miserable man, already afflicted with disease and 
poverty. The Society, he said, wrote him a letter full of 
compliments, but declined' to rehnquish their victim. The 
next day their agent called on Lord Erskine with a brief and 
fee, desiring him to crave the judgment of the Court upon 
Williams. He refused to take the fee, and asking for his 
brief, he drew his pen through the retainer as counsel for that 
Society, because ' they loved judgment rather than mercy.' He 
said he had lately found some of his speeches on this trial in 
a pedlar's basket, and he left us one of them. It is a most 
eloquent defence of (_ hristianity from the attacks of infidels. I 
should mention that Williams was sentenced to two years' 
impi'isonment." 

To the Same. 

^^ February, 1820. 

" Lord Erskine called M'ith Lord Buchan on Saturday and 
sat a long time. He has a fund of amusing political anecdote. 
It was he who introduced the present King to Lady Hertford ; 
and it is, he saj-s, to this unfortunate introduction that many 
of the disastrous measures of the Regency are owing, for she 



SUMMER AT CALLANDER. 139 

governs tlie King with despotic sway. When Lady Hugh Sey- 
mour died, she left the guardianship of her only daughter to 
Mrs. Fitzherbert. The testamentary guardian applied to Lord 
Eldon as Chancellor to take the child from Mrs. Fitzherbert, 
on the ground of her being a Roman Catholic. Lord Eldon 
pronounced judgment in favor of this separation, it being 
contrary to the law of England that a Catholic should be 
appointed guardian to a Protestant child. The Prince Regent 
sent for Lord Erskine, and said that it would be the death 
of Mrs. Fitzherbert and the child if they were separated. 
Lord Erskine advised the Prince to apply to Lady Hertford 
to use her influence with her husband, the eldest uncle of the 
child, to allow her to remain with Mrs. Fitzherbert. He did 
so, and from this accidental acquaintance has arisen the influ- 
ence Lady Hertford has obtained over the mind of his present 
Majesty. This is a curious piece of secret Court history. Lord 
Erskine attributes to this his Majesty's change of politics, the 
continuance of the French war, and in short all the disastrous 
measures of the Regency."] 

As the spring approaclied, now* that we were free of 
Park Hall, and also of the Coilrt of Session, we were more 
able to wander, and our excellent friend Mrs. Grant of Lag- 
gan recommended Callander to us as a pleasant residence 
within easy reach of many Highland beauties ; and early in 
the summer of 1820 we took a house called the Old Manse 
at Callander. 

I think it w&s the end of June, 1820, that we took pos- 
session of our summer quarters. I remember the beauty 
and courtesy of our hostess, Mrs. Campbell, a young widow, 
impressed us favorably on our first arrival, and the appear- 
ance of her house was more comfortable-looking than we 
expected to meet with in those days. There was a little 
green bank sloping down to the clear bright waters of 
the river Teith, iu front of the house. The course of that 
beautiful river was more flowing and gentle at that place 
than either above or below our house, but still it had 



140 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

enough of life " to discourse most eloquent music," and we 
took it to our hearts at once. We were then a large family 
party, and our one spare room was seldom untenanted. 
"We took exploring walks daily when the weather improved, 
and each selected a favorite seat at the Roman Camp, a 
place full of wooded knolls and chequered shade, a short 
distance from the town of Callander, then, before railway 
days, a very primitive Border Highland village. 

Our first visitor there was dear Mary Grant, who came 
to refresh her soul in the Highland air she loved so dearly. 
She was at that time more able to enjoy than I ever remem- 
ber to have known her. There had been some respite in 
the family sorrows, and whether in grief or joy she was 
equally welcome to all of us. 

Our family party was often enlivened by the arrival of 
agreeable English and American strangers, introduced to 
us by different friends. I think it was that year we first 
became acquainted with George Ticknor,^ from Boston, U. S., 
and a friend of his, Mr. Cogswell. We thought them 
among the most cultivated and agreeable Americans we 
had ever known, and have since kept up our friendship 
by occasional correspondence with Mr. Ticknor. We also 
saw a good deal of Mrs. Smith of Coniston, and " the 
Joanna" and her sister, Mrs. Agnes Baillie, from Hamp- 
stead, who were at Callander part of that summer, and 
joined us in many exploring expeditions. 

I should not take leave of this summer without recording 
our pleasant intercourse with Farmer Buchanan, whose 
character had more of the Lowland than of the Highland 
type. He united the virtues of both — great cultivation 
and independence, with the courtesy of Highland manners. 
He was a very fine specimen of human nature, and we used 
to enjoy a talk with him much when he was binding up 

1 Author of " Life of Prescott," and " History of Spanish Literature." 



SUMMER AT CALLANDER. 141 

his sheaves, or when the labors of the day were over he 
returned to his cottage and the enjoyment of his books. 
His knowledge of what was passing in the literary world 
was kept up by his five sons, who had all been distinguished 
students at Glasgow College. The only one who had 
not shown any thirst for knowledge assisted him in his 
farm. The others had all been sent off with their winter 
supply of potatoes and meal to Glasgow, where, after the 
first year, they never cost their parents anything, being able 
to save by summer private tuition what defrayed their 
expenses in winter. Farmer Buchanan's eldest son, who 
afterwards became Professor of Logic at Glasgow College, 
was, at the time I speak of, minister of Peebles, and came 
during the summer to visit his parents, and delight himself 
in his old haunts about Callander. We heard him preach a 
very beautiful sermon during this visit in the parish church 
of Callander, and it was delightful to see and to sympathize 
with the joy of the venerable Elder on this occasion, and to 
watch his face in church. 

One of the old man's chief pleasures we found to be 
reading Milton, and so gr^at a master was he of Gaelic 
lore that he had translated several books of Paradise Lost 
into Gaelic verse. Mr. Fletcher took to his Gaelic studies 
again this summer with great zest, and we concluded the 
pleasures of the summer by paying some visits to old friends 
in Argyleshire, accompanied by our youngest son and daugh- 
ter, who enjoyed this introduction to the land of their 
fathers as much as we could possibly desire. They were 
then in the freshness of their youth, and were pronounced 
by their Highland kinsmen to be worthy representatives of 
the clan. 



142- AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

\_Letter to Mrs. Stark, Edinburgh., 1820, after the Callander 
summer. 

"Mr. Fletclier had indeed a gi-eat triumph in making us com- 
plete converts to what we used to think his partial estimate of 
the Highland character. There is a kind of chivalrous romance 
in it of which I had before no conception. I think this arises 
from the absence of those gainful speculations which are open 
to the operative and middling classes of the English and 
Lowland Scotch. The gentry in the Highlands are not a bit 
higher-toned than the same class elsewhere. It is the Highland 
grazier and his clansmen the shepherds who count kindred to 
men of high degree, and dwell on the ancient traditions of their 
clan, till the whole character is elevated. A poor Highlander 
has no counteraction to those feelings of hospitahty by which 
he is so much distinguished. This graceful quality is not 
checked by sordid calculation of any kind, not even by making 
a provision for his own old age; he relies with affectionate 
confidence on the provision his children will make for him, 
when he can no longer climb the hill or gather the sheep into 
the fold. The respect paid to old age is one of the most 
beautiful features of the primitive state of society. Age is 
not merely tolerated, but it is honored. I saw a woman of 
near eighty livmg in a neat cottage, with an acre of land and 
a cow, purchased for her by five sons, who were simply High- 
land shepherds. Proud she was, and well might she be so, of 
her little possession. I never saw so much real virtue in hum- 
ble life as this view of society aifoi'ded me. It made me detest 
poor-rates more than ever, and manufacturing districts ; it 
made me, I fancy, a bad political economist, but a greater lover 
than ever of my fellow-creatures." 

From Mrs. Wolfe Tone Wilson to Mrs. Fletcher. 

" George Town, September 23d, 1820. 
"Yes, my beloved friend, you judge like yourself — truly, 
nobly, delicately. The warmth and sincerity of my affection for 
you can never alter: it was sealed by sympathy; but before that 



LETTER FROM MRS. WILSON. 143 

heart-rending sympathy existed, when you could sympathize with 
sorrow without having tasted it, my love to you was founded 
on esteem, on admiration of the pure and generous loveliness 
of your mind, and its expanded, enlightened benevolence. 
Speaking of you one day with Eliza Wilkes, I was observing 
how well your appearance corresponded to your character, and, 
amongst other follies, I said you were a full-blooded animal 
of generous breed. Eliza laughed, and said you really had the 
qualities of a noble horse. I observed how delightful it would 
be to investigate the world mounted on a horse of your chai'ac- 
ter. ' Oh,' said Eliza, ' indeed I could never ride Mrs. Fletcher.' 
' Ride Mrs. Fletcher ! ride Mrs. Fletcher ! ! ' the sound pulled 
up my ideas. Eliza went on saying, if you were a horse she 
would put you in a park of clover. . . I instantly sprang upon 
you, and declared you should never be condemned to uselessness 
and plenty, and oh, what a scamper I took with you through the 
universe ! ] " ' 

The summer of 1821 we spent very pleasantly at Conis- 
ton, in Mrs. Smith's cottage, opposite the gate of Tent Lodge, 
which we had secured for three months. This second 
residence at the Lakes, at the distance of fifteen years, 
renewed our admiration and^'Selight in the scenery of that 
district. 

I was then in vigorous health, and I remember, in a 
pony expedition my two daughters and I took, escorted 
by Joseph Harden, I generally rode foremost of the party, 
by Hard Knot and Wry Nose to Wast Water, Calder 

1 Mrs. Wolfe Tone Wilson was one of my mother's very dear friends, 
and she says of her in a letter to me: "I admired and loved her for the 
union of magnanimity and tenderness she possessed, and it will always be a 
pleasing reflection to me that I believe my sympathy in all she had done 
and suffered was some comfort to her when she came into a land of 
strangers." 

This lady was the widow of Theobald Wolfe Tone, and lived in Paris till 
the return of the Bourbons, when she and her son went to America. She 
married at this time her generous friend, Mr. Wilson, who gave up his 
country and friends for her sake. 



144 AUTOBIOGJRAPHY. 

Abbey, Buttermere. and Borrowdale, and back to Coniston 
across the Stake, which was thought, in those days, a 
perilous adventure for female equestrians. It was upon 
that expedition that I heard, with a degree of surprise 
that amused me at the time, that the landlady at Calder 
Bridge designated me as the " old lady." It was a whole- 
some truth that flashed upon me : I was then fifty-one, 
and had not begun to think myself an old woman. Our 
visit to Seathwaite and the Duddon on this occasion 
interested us much. Wordswort|i's Notes to his " Sonnets 
on the Duddon " had made us acquainted with the simple 
annals of Robert Walker, who exercised the office of priest, 
schoolmaster, will-maker, wool- spinner, and brewer of ale 
for the whole village. Mrs. Smith's kindness and hospi- 
tality towards us could not be exceeded. She had many 
jokes with my daughters at my expense, as she thought I 
exceeded in attempting the duties of hospitality in so small 
a dwelling. Her graceful wit amused me, but did not 
improve me on the points she desired — exclusiveness as to 
society. She loved my children, and I was not jealous to see 
them more than rival me in her affection and admiration. 

It was this summer we became intimate with Mrs. George 
Martin and her daughter, Mrs. Buckle. The latter was 
then lately married, and, with her husband and mother, en- 
joying a first acquaintance with the Lake district. The 
ladies were most agreeable and cultivated people. They 
were nearly connected with the good old Whig Member for 
Tewkesbury, James Martin. 

The intimacy formed at this time led to much after- 
intercourse and enjoyment to my daughters, who paid 
them frequent visits in Gloucestershire, and saw many 
interesting places and people in a part of England they 
had before been unacquainted with. Many points of 
sympathy attracted us to each other. They were not at 



MRS. CRAIK AND ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 145 

all political, but they were simple in their habits and 
tastes, entirely free from that false estimate of things 
which so many persons inherit who are born in a good 
social position, and so many assume who are not so born, 
and who think it necessary to keep up appearances at all 
times and seasons, and thus lose a great deal of innocent 
enjoyment. Mrs. Buckle had great artistic powers, and 
her mother was an excellent botanist, and one of the most 
refined, unselfish, and cultivated persons we have ever 
known, a very fine type of the English lady of the old 
school. 

It was during this summer of 1821 I heard of the 
sudden death of one of my oldest and dearest Manor 
School friends, Mrs. Craik of Arbigland. She was a 
woman of excellent talents and very warm affections. We 
loved each other truly at school, and ever after cultivated 
a friendship which contributed much to each other's hap- 
piness. We had the comfort to know the same feeling 
descended to our children. After her marriage to Mr. Craik 
of Arbigland (a beautiful place on the Solway, about fifteen 
miles from Dumfries), we fretpiently took that route either 
to or from our visits to Yorkshire. It might be about the 
year 1810 or 1812, when returning from a walk, that Mrs. 
Craik dii*ected my attention to some young masons who 
were engaged in the erection of some stone pillars of a new 
gateway in the approach to the house of Arbigland. She 
said, " One of these young men is, I do not say a Burns, but 
certainly no inconsiderable poet ; you must find out which 
it is." I looked for a few moments at each, while she was 
speaking to them, and at once decided that the tall, 
thoughtful, stalwart youth who gave respectful attention 
to what she was saying was the poet of the party. It was 
Allan Cunningham, and from that time he and I became 
fast friends. I found some of his MS. songs on my table. 



146 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

when I went to my room at niglit. When he came to 
Edinburgh to improve himself in his trade, we were able 
to be of use to him in supplying him with books and giving 
him introductions ; but he made his own way by his wisdom 
and good sense, as well as by his talents, steadily and con- 
tinuously. He was engaged at that time to marry an 
excellent young woman well known to Mrs. Craik, and he 
was soon able to fulfil his engagement; and a better wife 
no poet ever had. Allan's career in London is well known. 
He wisely secured for himself a certain income as Chan- 
trey's secretary and the superintendent of his works, and 
gave his leisure time to the cultivation of literature and 
composition. 

[ To Allan Cunningham. 

" Edinburgh, April 15, 1820. 

" My dear Sir, — You must not judge of the pleasure your 
letter gave me by ray dilatoriness in answering it. You are 
right in saying that I am interested in your pursuits, and 
rejoice in your happiness. Of all the persons I saw in my last 
summer's visit to London, I know not one whose temper of 
mind, and condition altogether, pleased me so much as yours 
did. I saw you pursuing an occupation the most elegant and 
tasteful, I saw you high in the estimation of a man whose 
genius you revere; your children were playing round you, 
your wife had the countenance of a happy and contented 
woman, your home bespoke comfort and respectability, and 
all that you possessed you owed to your own talents and 
industry. You preserved the erect independence of your char- 
acter, and were the same honorable and unsophisticated being 
as w'hen I first knew you. The stirrings of ambition you 
speak of have rather stimulated than misled you. I hope they 
will continue to spur you on, but never take the rein from the 
hands of your better judgment. 

" The information you give me of Mr. Chantrey's observations 
in Italy, and your own comparison between his endowments and 
those of the Roman artist, pleased and instructed me extremely. 



LETTER TO ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 147 

I never had an opportunity of seeing any of the works of 
Canova but the one you showed me ; and certainly the impres- 
sion it made was far short of that produced by the matchless 
work of Mr. Chantrey, which we saw afterwards at Litchfield. 
\ shall be glad to know if you have had leisure or inclination 
to retouch and remodel your ' Geraldine.' Have you any 
thoughts of visiting Scotland this summer? We have taken a 
cottage on the banks of the Teith near Callander, where we go 
the first week in June, and propose remaining there till October. 
My address will be Mansfield, near Callander, Perthshire. We 
shall be in the midst of that beautiful scenery described by 
Sir Walter Scott. The King has done himself honor by con- 
ferring the title on a man of genius. Mr. Campbell writes to 
me that he has a poem on the anvil — but he is going to spend 
the summer with his family on the banks of the Rhine, where 
his imagination will be assisted by the magnificent scenery of 
nature. Let us hear from you in Perthshire. Write to me of 
your family, and of all that interests you. Remember me very 
kindly to your amiable wife, and give my blessing to your 
children. If I were nearer to them I would recommend them 
to read Mrs. Bai-bauld's prose hymns, the best book I know 
for cultivating devotional taste and feelings. Farewell, dear 
Allan. Go on as you have Jaegun, and you need envy none of 
the great ones of the earth. — I am, your faithful friend, 

" Eliza Fletcher. 
"Mr. Allan Cunmngham, 

Eccleston Street, Pimlico, London." ] 

Before Allan Cunningham left Dumfries I had introduced 
Mr. Cromek to him, who was going to that district in 
search of ballad lore ; and this led to the curious literary 
fraud which my friend Allan confessed to Sir Walter Scott 
about this time, when he was sitting for his bust to 
Chantrey, and also to me, in an interesting letter, which I 
have since returned to his family. In that letter, Allan 
said that he was so piqued by Cromek's manner of receiv- 
ing some of his own songs which he took to him, that he 



148 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

composed the ballads he had been employed by Cromek 
to collect, and these actually form the greatest part of the 
Nithsdale and Galloway songs. On hearing this, Sir 
Walter courteously replied, " I always suspected this, Mr. 
Cunningham ; they are far too good to be old." 

The stirring public event of this summer was the 
approaching Coronation of George the Fourth. Then 
followed the tragic death of Caroline of Brunswick, whose 
previous persecutions and death on the 7th August had 
called forth the generous feeling of England, and the 
popular burst of indignation against her husband found 
an honest response even in the Tory heart of the graceful 
lady of Tent Lodge, as well as among her tenants of the 
cottage. It was well, perhaps, for the peace of our inter- 
course that summer that such was the case. 

Led by Mrs. Smith, who was a sort of queen at that 
time of the society she lived in, we attended a ball at 
Ambleside, annually given as the gaiety of the district, at 
the Salutation Hotel, and testified our sense of Queen 
Caroline's wrongs by going in somewhat grotesque mourn- 
ing procured at the little town of Hawkshead. My 
daughters have often since declared it was the most 
amusing ball they ever attended. 

My aunt Dawson's health was at that time so infirm that 
Mr. Fletcher kindly projiosed that we should spend the 
following winter at York, so as to prevent the necessity of 
a divided family ; and this was rendered more easy as Angus 
had been indulged with a foreign tour, after the conclu- 
sion of his clerkship, and before entering on his professional 
life as a solicitor. A house was taken for us in the Minster 
Yard at York, where my husband and part of the family 
established themselves after we left Coniston ; while I, with 
my two unmarried daughters, went to pay a visit to my 
dear old friend Miss Kennedy, near Manchester, and also 



MISS KENNEDY. — T. E. CURRIE. 149 

to Mrs. Greg of Quarry Bank, in Cheshire, where, after the 
lapse of many years, I found the same hospitality, benevo- 
lence, and cultivation which had struck me many years 
before during my first visit. The large family of boys and 
girls had now grown up. The sons were travelled men, full 
of pursuit and intelligence. Grandchildren were there to 
enliven the scene of this patriarchal household ; death had 
not then visited that happy home. 

At Miss Kennedy's pleasant little villa I renewed my 
intercourse with Dr. Henry and his agreeable wife, whom 
I had known well in Edinburgh when he came to study 
there, after his marriage to a niece of Miss Kennedy. 

Miss Kennedy had also asked her favorite T. E. Currie 
to meet us at her house. He was the youngest son of Dr. 
Currie of Liverpool, the biographer of Burns ; and it was 
a great pleasure to us to see our pet " Robin " (as we used 
to call him, from his bright eyes and confiding nature) 
expanded both in mind and form, from a somewhat silent 
youth of eighteen into a most intelligent and agreeable 
man of twenty-one. He was then a Cambridge student, 
and accompanied us to Quarry Bank, to meet his honored 
friend Professor Smyth of Cambridge, who was staying at 
Quarry Bank at the time, and with whom our " Robin " was 
evidently a great favorite. 

We did not find the society of York comparable in point 
of variety or intelligence to that of Edinburgh. We saw a 
good deal of Sydney Smith, who was frequently in York 
" for a short course of noise, dirt, and bad air," as he ex- 
pressed it, and, as usual, he made incomparable mirth out 
of my alleged love of revolutions ; and his society was 
certainly a great alleviation to what there might be of 
stagnation in the air of the cathedral city. Mr. Wrang- 
ham and his family were also very agreeable ; and a 
Highland family (the M'Leans of Coll) made a pleasant 



150 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

addition to the cii-cle that winter, besides being old friends 
of ours. 

\_From Mrs. Fletcher to Allan Cunningham. 

HER REASONS ON PUBLIC GROUNDS FOR PREFERRING A BUST OF 
SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY TO ONE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 1822. 

" My dear Allan, — I am exceedingly glad that you com- 
municated the history of this curious volume (' The Nithsdale 
and Galloway Songs ') to Sir AValter Scott. No man more 
generously and liberally knows how to estimate the merits of 
contemporary genius. He does, indeed, possess too large a 
share of that imperishable gift to envy other men's possessions. 
No one can admire his powers of invention,' his matchless vigor 
of miagination, playfulness of fancy, and quick perception of 
all the varieties of human character more than I do, and yet 
will you not think me ungrateful for all the amusement and 
delight his writings have afforded me, when I say that if you 
do send me a present of a cast of one of Mr. Chantrey's busts, 
I had rather it were one of Sir Samuel Romillj than Sir Walter 
Scott •? 

" You must find a solution of this puzzling preference in the 
importance which my husband and I attach to the public 
principles of public men. I believe Sir Walter Scott to be an 
excellent private character, as well as a man of consummate 
genius, but then he is a writer in support of public principles 
which we think injurious to the purity, dignity, and elevation 
of the national character, while Sir Samuel Romilly spent the 
■whole of his valuable life in advocating that cause and those 
principles which have raised England to the high rank she 
holds in the scale of nations. What is it that has made our 
country great, but that the Government has always been influ- 
enced by public opinion ? You may say, perhaps. Will you 
prefer a bust of Lord Byron, whose sentiments are those of 
ultra-Whiggism ? I answer, No, because Lord Byron lias 
trampled on private morals, and shamefully violated the chari- 
ties of private life, and not all his powerful genius can redeem 
him from dishonor."] 



GEORGE IV. IN EDINBURGH. 151 

When we returned to Edinburgh, in the summer of 
1822, the whole community there, rich and poor, were agog 
in expectation of a visit from George the Fourth. He 
appeared there in August ; and if he had been the wisest, 
bravest, and most patriotic of kings that ever wore a crown, 
he could not have been received with more loyal devotion 
than was shown him by the good town of Edinburgh. My 
sons were both called upon to get up their military duties 
and accoutrements, for the occasion of the public entry into 
Edinburgh from Leith. I went with my three daughters 
to a window above Trotter's shop, in Princes Street, to see 
the royal cavalcade come down St. Andrew Street to cross 
the Calton Hill to Holyrood. It was certainly a most im- 
posing and gorgeous sight ; but it was not the gilded coach 
or the fat gentleman within it which made it an affecting 
one: it was the vast multitude assembled — some said a 
hundred thousand people — animated by one feeling of 
national pride and pleasure in testifying their loyalty to 
their Sovereign. Sir Walter Scott had so admirably 
arranged the reception, that the poorest and humblest of 
his subjects had an opportunity afforded them of bowing 
to their King. Mrs. Grant of Laggan, a great lover of 
Kings, was of our party. The good old lady had, for this 
joyous occasion, put off her habitual black dress and robed 
herself in a salmon-colored satin, and, with the rest of 
the party, waved her handkerchief as the King appeared. 
They had all a good laugh at my expense, who, somewhat 
notorious for being no lover of Kings, was actually detected 
shedding tears and waving my handkerchief "like the 
lave," as the pageant passed. The fact is, I have always 
found the sight and cheer of a midtitude, when animated 
by one kindly or patriotic feeling, quite irresistible in its 
power to command my sympathy and make me weep, and 
for the time, it is an exciting and pleasurable feeling. I 



152 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

have never seen a multitude mischievously assembled, or 
disposed to evil, and hope the inexplicable emotion I have 
acknowledged would not lead me to follow " a multitude 
in doing evil." 

Mr. Fletcher was then so infirm in health that we wished 
to persuade him to go quietly with us to Princes Street to 
see the procession ; but no — he insisted on taking his seat 
on the platform prepared for the gentlemen of the Bar, and 
cheered the chief magistrate of a free people with all hig 
heart. 

And here I must record an instance of Highland grati- 
tude creditable to the feelings of that country. A valued 
servant of ours, who had married from our house, and who 
then lived in the High Street, had two or three windows 
to the front, and, some time before the King came, I asked 
her to let us have one of them to see his Majesty's proces- 
sion on its way from Holyrood to the Castle. Before the 
King came, however, I heard that all the windows in his 
line of progress were letting at high prices, from five to 
ten pounds for each window. Not being willing or able 
to pay any such sum for looking at a King, I called to 

release Mrs. M from her promise, and begged she would 

let her windows for the best price she could get. The 
warm-hearted woman said, with tears of emotion, "'Deed 
no, Mrs. Fletcher ; if you won't come to the window, it 
must stand empty." Of course we went to her window, 
not daring to offer payment for it, but contriving to re- 
munerate her in some other way. Alas ! what contrasts 
did her home on that day of the procession exhibit ; her 
only child then, her little Mary (called after my Mary), 
was in its cradle dying of exhaustion from whooping-cough, 
and she watching by it in hopeless grief, while the tumul- 
tuous acclamations of the people as the royal cortege moved 
slowly to the Castle Hill filled the air with rejoicing. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT.— CRABBE THE POET. 153 

Mr. Glassford, an intimate fi-iend of Sir Walter Scott, 
was walking with us past Sir Walter's door in Castle Street 
when he was ringing his own bell, having just returned 
from Holyrood, where the King had held a levee. " Well, 
Sir Walter," said Mr. Glassford, " what does the King say 
of his good town of Edinburgh ? " " Say ! " said Sir Wal- 
ter, " he says, ' I always heard the Scotch were a proud 
people ; and they may well be proud, for they are a nation 
of gentlemen, and they live in a citj^ of palaces.' " It was 
a kingly speech; and, indeed, it was a gorgeous sight to 
walk about the streets of our " ain romantic town " in those 
days of well-organized festivity. It was during that festive 
time I had the pleasure of renewing a personal acquaintance 
with my old friend, the poet Crabbe. He was on a visit 
to Sir Walter Scott, a few doors from us. It was in the 
year 1788 that he and his wife passed some days at my 
father's house along with Mr. Cartwright. At that time 
he was a slender, pensive-looking man, about thirty ; in 
1822, when we met again, he was a white-haired, interest- 
ing old man, old-looking for his years, but his cheerfulness 
had improved with his fam€ and fortune, for he was then 
one of the most popular and admired poets of the day, and 
in comparatively affluent circumstances. He had, indeed, 
lost a treasure of a wife not many years after I first knew 
them. She left him two excellent sons, and they were the 
solace of his latter years. His son George was his biogra- 
pher, and a more interesting record of the struggles and 
triumphs of genius in overcoming adverse circumstances 
can nowhere be met with. Mr. Crabbe had evidently as 
much pleasure as I had in the recollection of our first 
acquaintance, and came whenever he had an, hour to spare 
for a quiet talk about old times. He honored us with 
his company at dinner several times, and one day met at 
our table the celebrated Mrs. Somerville, whose unaffected 



154 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

simplicity of manners was as remarkable as her uncommon 
attainments in science. My much-loved friend, Mrs. Wolfe 
Tone Wilson, and her son, William Wolfe Tone, were also 
of the party that day. They were for some time in 
Edinburgh that summer on a visit from America. I still 
found in Mrs. Wolfe Tone the same vigor and originality 
of mind, with as much warmth and tenderness of heart, as 
in my former intimacy with that delightful woman. She 
was happier because her son, the idol of her heart, was with 
her ; but they thought our good town had gone daft about 
George the Fourth. 

[One of the diverting incidents of this period occurred during 
a forenoon visit when Mr. Crabbe and young Tone met at our 
house. Tone was sitting with us when the old poet was an- 
nounced, and he had scarcely taken his seat in his quiet com- 
posed manner when Tone rushed towards him, went down on 
one knee, took his hand, kissed it, and, without saying a word, 
resumed his chair. When he went away we explained to Mr. 
Crabbe who he was, and that his Irish blood and French educa- 
tion accounted for this departure from ordinary manners. It 
seemed a relief to the gentle old man to find " that the young 
gentleman was not out of his mind." 

Note from George Crabbe to Mrs. Fletcher in August, 1822. 

" My dear Lady, — I have now more time to reply to your 
obliging note, and yet know not what more I can say. I 
deferred my answer because I was uncertain with respect to my 
engagements, and would not write till the last minute, in the 
hope that I might indulge myself and accept the invitation 
which you so obligingly placed in my way, but not entirely in 
my power. 

" We cannot always, my dear madam, as you are well assured, 
do that which we would. I meet Avith nothiu'j^ but kindness in 
Edinburgh, but how often does it happen that even kindness 
prevents us the doing as we would ! 

" I am convinced that I make very awkward apologies ; nay, 



LETTER TO MRS. STARK. 155 

apologies they are not, and I am quite sure that I am writing 
to a lady who comprehends all that I would say. 

" It would have been highly pleasing to me if I could have 
heard Mr. Alison preach, and to have been introduced to a 
gentleman of whom I know so much, and of whom so much 
remains to be known. I will not dwell upon my disappoint- 
ment. 

" Let me at least take this occasion of giving you my best 
thanks for the kind attention which you have shown to me. I 
am very sure that while I remember anything I shall remember 
that I remain, my dear lady, your old friend, 

" George Crabbe. 
" 39 North Castle St." 

This note from the poet Crabbe, written from the celebrated 
" poor 39 Castle Street," where Walter Scott lived so long, is 
curious from showing the distraction produced in the mind of 
a "quiet lion" when introduced suddenly into such a motley 
scene as the time of the King's visit to Edinburgh presented. 
It shows, too, such a complete difference in the style of note- 
writing, having much of the stately stiffness of the dedications 
of the days of Crabbe's youth, and not being able to depart 
from that, even in the prevailmg bustle which might have 
excused a shorter apology. 

To Mrs. Stark from E. F. 

" Edinburgh, 1822. 

" We grieve more than I can express for the alarming state 
of oar dear T. E. Currie. I have never known a loftier or 
purer mind, or a warmer heart than his. 

" We always admired and esteemed him highly when he was 
a student here three years ago, but last autumn he stayed with 
us at dear Miss Kennedy's, and the intimacy of domestic inter- 
course made us feel towards him a much livelier interest than 
we had done before. He is a noble creature, a most unworldly 
one, and though his imagination and buoyancy of spirit imaged 
out successful and bright prospects, the delicacy of his charac- 
ter and the sensibility of his temperament would have dis- 
qualified him for the rough conflicts of life. He is better 



156 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

fitted for the world to which he is going than for the one he 
leaves ; but bright hopes go with him, and I am very sad for 
those he leaves behind to mourn such a loss."] 

In the winter of 1822 and 1823, I had prevailed upon 
some friends to join me in an attempt to reform some young 
delinquents in a House of Refuge. This had been a 
favorite project of mine for many years, and I do not 
remember any work of usefulness in which I ever engaged 
with more heart and hope. It was my thought night and 
day how these poor boys, the children of wicked parents, 
themselves nurtured in crime, might be reclaimed from 
their evil ways. It pleased God to prosper the under- 
taking. For several years Lady Carnegie of Dairy House 
was the main support and encourager of it. Circumstances 
which neither she nor I could control led to its being 
merged into a larger Institution, but during the seventeen 
years our small experiment in Dairy Lane existed, 116 
boys had been admitted from prison and Bridewell, of 
whom the manager could give a most satisfactory account, 
105 being reclaimed and having become useful members 
of society. They were taught the trade of shoemaking, 
and lived as one family under the kind rule of their master 
and his wife. 

In the spring of 1823 Maria Edgeworth and her two 
younger sisters spent some time in Edinburgh. We met 
first at my dear friend and pastor's house, the Rev. Mr. 
Alison. It was the first time I had been introduced to the 
author of " Simple Susan," though we were not unknown 
to each other, as she told me her brothers had often men- 
tioned the agreeable society they met at our house when 
they were students in Edinburgh. Miss Edgeworth's 
personal ap2iearance was not attractive ; but her vivacity, 
good humor, and cleverness in conversation quite equalled 
my expectations. I should say she was more sprightly 



MARIA EDGEWORTH. 157 

and brilliant than refined. She excelled in the raciness 
of Irish humor, but the great defect of her manner, as it 
seemed to me, was an excess of compliment, or what in 
Ireland is called " blarney ; " and in one who had moved in 
the best circles, both as to manners and mind, it surprised 
me not a little. She repelled all approach to intimacy on 
my part by the excess of her complimentary reception of 
me when we were first introduced to each other at Mr. 
Alison's. I never felt confidence in the reality of what she 
said afterwards. I do not know whether it was the absence 
of good taste in her, or that she supposed I was silly and 
vain enough to be flattered by such verbiage. It was the 
first time in my life I had met with such over-acted civility ; 
but I was glad of an opportunity of meeting a person whose 
genius and powers of mind had been exercised in benefit- 
ing the world as hers have been. I feel sure from the 
feeling of those friends who loved her, because they knew 
her well, that had this been the case with me, I might 
have been also one of her friends ; so that I only give my 
impression as arising from that of society intei'course of a 
very superficial kind. Miss ^Jdgeworth and her two very 
agreeable sisters were pleased to meet at our house Sir 
Robert and Lady Listen. They accompanied us some 
days after this to dine at Millburn Tower, the Listons' 
country-house, near Edinburgh. Miss Edgeworth's varied 
information and quick repartee appeared to great advantage 
in conversation with the polished ex-ambassador of Con- 
stantinople, who always reminded me of the couplet : — 

" Polite, as all his life in Courts had been ; 
Yet good, as he the world had never seen." 

In the month of June, 1823, Mary accompanied her 
friend Catherine Laycock to Yorkshire, where Margaret 
had spent the winter, and soon after these dear sisters set 



158 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

off with their great-aunt Mrs. Fretwell, the eldest daughter 
of jNIr. Ilill, to pay a visit to our friends Mrs. Martin and 
Mrs. Buckle, near Cheltenham. 

My aunt, Mrs. Fretwell, was a singular character, highly 
principled and highly prejudiced. She had an old-fashioned 
notion of the authority to be exercised by age over youth, 
and she set out by telling her young companions that she 
must rule and they must obey. This was quite proper as 
she franked them in her post-chaise ; and travelling only 
two stages a day, and one of those before breakfast, they 
had much time to explore the different towns they visited 
in their progress. My daughters found her government a 
very pleasant one ; in fact, she allowed them to have their 
own way quite as much as they desired, and they parted 
the best friends imaginable, at the house of her stepson, in 
Worcestershire. 

INIr. Fletcher's feverish attacks had been so frequent 
during this winter, that soon after my daughters left us 
we secured the best lodgings we could procure between 
Dalkeith and Lasswade, and there my husband and I, 
with Mrs. Taylor and her children, went for country air. 
Mr. Fletcher's health soon improved, and we were kindly 
attended to by our friends in the way of a supply of books 
and morning visits. Our incommodious dwelling prevented 
our enjoying any society otherwise ; but I shall always feel 
thankful to have been sent there, as it were, by the force 
of circumstances, as it enabled me to be of some use to 
three most deserving young people, the children of the 
unprincipled market-gardener from whom we took our 
house. AYe returned to town early in September, with 
minds made up to take a more comfortable residence iu 
the country the following year. 



LETTERS TO HER DAUGHTERS. 159 

l^From letters to her absent daughters relating to the 
gardener'' s family. 

"Castle Street, 1823. 

"I had intended to write to you to-day from Almondale, but 
have put it off till Monday, as your dear father had a slight 
attack of fever, but is kindly desirous I should go to see Mrs. 
Erskine. On the whole, he has been much better since we 
came to our home comforts than he was the two wet, dismal 
months we were at Viewfield, in which, however, we had some 
gleams of sweet scenery and much repose, and our going there 
I look upon as providential, since it has afforded us the oppor- 
tunity of rescuing the two poor girls who were the victims of 
their father's brutal tyranny. Through Miss Howell, I have got 
one of them a situation as nursery-governess. Their brother's 
gratitude to me is most touching, for coming between them 
and their father's most unnatural cruelty. I think I gave 
either you or Mrs. Martin a history of this interesting family, 
where the virtues so peculiarly Scotch — of self-denial, submis- 
sion to severe hardship without repining, education and refine- 
ment much beyond their condition, with considerable ambition 
and aspiring thoughts on the brother's part — form the con- 
flicting elements of the charactej: of this family. These are 
also engrafted on deep piety, and such a sense of filial duty, 
that although we have reason to think these young women 
were often in danger of their lives from the drunken fury of 
their father, they never once complained, or uttered a murmur 
against him." 

" ALMONnAi.E, October 8, 1823. 

" I came here on Monday, to enjoy, with dear Mrs. Erskine, 
the last hngering days of autumn. They have been bright and 
mild, and the coloring of the trees on the banks of this beau- 
tiful river, 1 that rushes past the window where I am writing, 
gives a richness and variety that belongs only to this season. 
I left your father remarkably well ; he even proposed that I 
should remain here till Friday ; but I thought it best not to 
try his patience too far, and am to return to-morrow. 

1 The Ahiiond. 



1 60 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 

"Last night was the anniversary of the day Mr. Erskine 
died, and my friend, who is a great observer of seasons, is 
much depressed by the sad recollections of that event. She is 
pious and amiable in no common degree ; but oh ! she is deso- 
late. She has no children to expect home from Gloucester- 
shire. I grieve for her want of objects on whom to dwell 
with joy and thankfulness. Perhaps when the last hour comes 
she will find it merciful to have so few ties to earth ; but 
affections such as good children afford are not earthly — they 
are gifts of Heaven — only bestowed to be fully enjoyed here- 
after. God bless my two precious children, prays their affec-' 
tionate mother. E. Fletcher. " 

Letters to her daughters absent in Gloucestershire. 

" Edinburgh, September Wth, 1823. 
" I received your very cheering letter last Saturday, the day 
after I had despatched mine to Margaret; and though I begin 
ray chat with you now, I think I shall no't send it till after 
Saturday's post, that I may leave room to reply to your next 
letters. I can fully enter into your disappointment about 
'The Fall of Jerusalem.'^ It is impossible not to form 
poetical expectations of a poet — a beau-ideal which is, I believe, 
less often realized on a slight acquaintance than any other 
illusion of the imagination. I cherished it, forty years ago, 
about Mason, and have not been cured after half a century's 
experience of the fallacious nature of such expectations; but I 
must hasten to tell you how highly and truly I have been 
gratified by dining in company with Brougham and Denman. 
It was last Monday this good fortune befell me. We had heard 
they were at John Brougham's for a day or two, but had no 
expectation of seeing them when Mrs. John Brougham called 
early to ask your father and me to dinner that day, as they 
wished Henry to see his old friends. I was at the meeting 
of the Female Friendly Society at the time, with good Miss 
Wilson, and deep in the accounts there, when Angus good- 
naturedly came to tell me, as an answer was required. I came 
home and wrote my acceptance, and your father's regrets in 

1 By Mr. Milinan, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's. 



LETTERS TO HER DAUGHTERS. 161 

not being able to go. Brougham met me most kindly and 
cordially, but the party of twenty at dinner was too numerous 
for general conversation, and I was not well set between Sir 
John Beresford and Sir Alexander Keith, but Denman's face 
opposite was a treat. I never saw a more noble physiognomy, 
morally and intellectually. He was silent. When the gentle- 
men came up to the drawing-room, Brougham stationed him- 
self beside me ; Dr. Thomson joined us ; and I never heard a 
more animated, pleasant, unforced, conversation than that which 
flowed on for more than an hour. One had but to touch the 
string, and it always vibrated the very chord one wished. It 
■was not brilliant sayings or pointed bon-mots, it was informa- 
tion given with frankness, energy, and good-nature. He said 
he had met with Clarkson at Penrith, and bade him go and 
tell Southey it was a shame that Negro Emancipation had never 
once been advocated in the Quarterly Review ; that Clarkson 
told him he had got the promise of fifteen hundred petitions 
from the principal towns in England in favor of that measure. 
He said the friends of Emaiicipation were determined to debate 
and divide the House upon every petition, so as to force Minis- 
ters to adopt some efficient measure in the next session. He 
said his Education Bill was rendered abortive by the prejudices 
of the Dissenters in England,.^who refused to send their chil- 
dren to schools where the parish minister had a veto on the 
choice of the schoolmaster ; and the ministers of the Establish- 
ment hated the Bill, because they were, generally speaking, 
averse to educate the people at all, and were only driven to do 
so by fear of the Methodists and other Dissenters. He said it 
was proposed to bring forward individual cases and instances 
of oppression and injustice exercised by magistrates and Orange- 
men in Ireland, rather than argue any longer on general princi- 
ples of misgovernment in that country ; facts would produce 
an effect upon the House when argument and reasoning were 
disregarded. Brougham's manner of treating subjects of inter- 
est is quite different from our Edinburgh Whigs. There is no 
affected indifference on subjects of vital importance, no con- 
temptuous sneer at rational conversation. He speaks with ani- 
mation and deep interest on the subjects I have mentioned. I 
met both Brougham and Denman next morning at breakfast 



162 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

at Dr. Thomson's. Denman is the most graceful of human 
beings ; admired Edinburgh extremely, but was still silent ; 
looks deferentially at Brougham, and benevolently at every- 
body. Brougham spoke with enthusiasm of Granville Sharp. 
He said he had seen him dining on bread and cheese, while at 
the same time he knew he was supporting many miserable 
human beings. He (Granville Sharp) wrote some pamphlets 
to prove that Melchisedek was Jesus Christ. His life was 
divided between relieving the poor and oppressed, and expound- 
ing the Revelations. Brougham seemed to have been greatly 
amused with his simplicity. B. says the Opposition are never 
so strong as when a Scotch job is brought before the House of 
Commons. The English Tories are ashamed to defend them, 
and genei'ally slink away and leave the JVWnister to brave it out 
as he best can, but (added he) Ireland is as much worse than 
Scotland in political liberty as Scotland is worse than England. 
He inquired after JMiles in a tone and manner that showed he 
liked him. Miles was much vexed he could not attend the 
public dinner given this day at Glasgow to Brougham and Den- 
man, but his jury case of some importance was to come on 
to-day at Inverary, and he could not leave it. 

" Your delightful joint-letter arrived this morning. I sent 
for it by eight o'clock, so impatient was I for it. It is truly 
the food that feeds my spirits and sustains my cheerfulness. 
I, too, have weaiy longings to have you both home again : 
this increases upon me as the time approaches. Your father 
keeps finely, and enjoys your letters as much as I do." 

To her davghters Margaret and Mary, absent in 
Gloucestershire, 

" 2Uh September, 1823. 
"While Bessie and I were sitting tete-a-tete on Sunday even- 
ing, the children having just gone to bed, the door-bell rang, 
and a gentleman, unannounced, was ushered into the drawing- 
room. He walked close up to me, and it was not till his dark 
countenance relaxed into a smile that I half screamed out, 
' Sinclair CuUen ! ' He had arrived in the mail that morning, 
and was on his way to Kinfauns Castle. He sat with us an 
hour, and was much like what you saw of him in London, only 



LETTERS TO HER DAUGHTERS. 163 

some shades less splenetic in his opinions of men and things. 
He has, however, a hero, and I have therefore a hope he will 
come right yet. His abstract of perfection is Sir Francis Bur- 
dett. He says he is without a particle of selfishness ; that it is 
a beautiful character — calm, concentrated, benevolent, and 
purely disinterested, entirely without vanity or personal ambi- 
tion ; that nothing disturbs the calmness of his temper but acts 
of cruelty and injustice. 

" Cullen called the next day, and met here accidentally the 
Marquis and Marquise de Bossi. He is an expatriated Italian 
patriot ; she, a Swiss lady, who has followed the fortunes of the 
banished man, and came to marry him in England, for the 
Holy Alliance, she said, would not permit him to marry in 
Switzerland. They have established such a system of espion- 
age in that once free and happy country, that the Marquis was 
obliged to change his name, and conceal himself in a cottage 
near Geneva, and visit his betrothed bride by stealth. She is 
the intimate friend of Sismondi, of whom she speaks in terms 
of the warmest and most affectionate friendship. Her broken 
English does not lessen the effect of her eloquence. I never saw 
so engaging a foreigner. They like Edinburgh so much, they 
talk of returning here for the winter, 

" Sinclair Cullen was to din^with us that day, and called to 
say, if we would allow him, he would bring with him John 
Cam Hobhouse, the M. P. for Westminster, whom he had met 
accidentally in the street on his return from Lord Glenorchy's, 
and being engaged to dine with us, Sinclair thought the addi- 
tion of this ultra- Whig would be agreeable 5 and so it proved. 
Mr. Hobhouse is remarkably entertaining — quick, lively, com- 
municative ; not interesting (he is too much a man of the 
world for that), not nearly so commanding and impressive as 
Brougham, or so dignified as Denman. He remembered dining 
here and meeting young Betty the actor in 1804. He told us 
many diverting stoi'ies, the most tragi-comic of which was the 
narrative of Shelley's death, which he had heard from Lord 
Byron. [As this is now so well known, it is omitted here. 
The letter goes on :] Mr. Hobhouse had a letter the other day 
from Lord Byron, saying that ten thousand pounds would save 
the liberties of Greece. Mr. ilobhouse said it was wonderful 



164 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

how circumstances formed character. Lord Byron and he were 
in Greece in 1810, long before any revolutionary movements. 
They had an Athenian servant named Demetrius, whose exces- 
sive timidity and cowardice furnished them with amusement. 
They used to set him on a spirited horse, that ran away with 
him, and Demetrius shrieked and screamed with terror. The 
barking of a dog made him cry out with fear ; and yet, some 
years after, this very man led the assault at Athens, and, after 
prodigies of valor, took that city from the Turks."] 

In April, 1824, we all went to live at Auchindinny House, 
an old and odd-looking chateau on the banks of the North 
Esk, nine miles from Edinburgh, and within a walk of 
Penicuik. Mr. Mackenzie (the " Man of Feeling ") ^ 
and his family had lived there many years before ; and 
although it had nothing of the neatness and order of an 
English villa, it suited our taste, and the walks about it 
were a never-ending pleasure to my daughters and to my 
grandchildren; while in the enjoyment of a large garden 
and a small pony gig, my desires, as to the means of 
amusement, were completely gratified. We all enjoyed the 
repose and freedom of a country life, and Mr. Fletcher's 
health and happiness were greatly promoted by it. I 
found my early taste for country occupations return upon 
me. We had several poor neighbors who interested us 
much, and our nearest neighbors (the Hills of Firth) were 
truly kind and pleasant associates. Then our more inti- 
mate friends from Edinburgh and elsewhere visited us fre- 
quently, not in a formal or ceremonious manner, but in a 
friendly fashion. Mr. Fletcher delighted in the quietness 
and freedom of our life there ; he was able to read for 
hours, and to be read to ; he bore the infirmities of age 

1 Mr. Mackenzie paid us a visit at Auchindinny the first winter, and 
spoke of having shot woodcocks in his youth where he then lived, in Heriol 
Row. Our dear "maestro," Dr. R. Morehead, also came more than once 
there, to visit us, and was always welcome. We resumed our Dante read- 
ings with him in the winter of 1826-7. 



AUCHINDINNY AND ITS PLEASURES. 165 

with uncomplaining submission, and his interest in public 
events was undiminished. The frequent visits of our 
grandchildren, Miles's three boys, were a great delight to 
us both, and Mrs. Taylor and her two children formed 
an interesting addition to our family circle. We had no 
hankerings after what were called the gaieties of an 
Edinburgh life. If I — the most gaily disposed member 
of the family — had felt any yearnings of that kind, I 
should have been ashamed to have yielded to them before 
the better regulated habits and tastes of my daughters ; 
but in fact, though naturally a lover of the pleasures of 
society, and somewhat spoiled, perhaps, by the place which 
an indulgent circle of friends had given me in the society 
of Edinburgh, it had been at times difficult to keep up the 
expenditure such circles involve, so that it was a cheap 
purchase of repose to give up evening parties and their 
confectionary horrors. 

In October, 1824, Mrs. Taylor, her sweet Elizabeth, 
Angus, and I, went to Yorkshire, to pay dear aunty a visit 
before winter set in. Angus was on his way to London to 
commence his studies as a-^^ulptor. He had never been 
able to fix his mind on law and its unpleasant details, smce 
his visit to Italy, and as his father and I had little hope of 
his ever doing so, we thought it better that he should begin 
at once the occupation he desired, than waste time as he 
was then doing. It was decided that he should board and 
lodge in Allan Cunningham's comfortable house for a year, 
that by working in Chantrey's studio he might learn under 
Allan the rudiments of the art before going to study at 
Rome. 

In the summer of 1825 we saw a good deal of some 
agreeable Italian exiles, who had been attracted to Edin- 
burgh by our friends the De Bossis. To Madame de Bossi 
we were indebted for the honor of a visit from Sismondi. 



166 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I remember it was a long bright summer day they came. 
The Jeffreys met them, and we had a wander, after dinner, 
in the glen and old quarry of Auchindinny, which all 
enjoyed. We were all struck by the union of power and 
simplicity in the conversation of Sismondi, and, above all, 
by his remarkable benevolence and hopefulness of nature. 
He was a believer in the good faith of such as truly loved 
the welfare of mankind. He had come on a mission of 
love and liberty, from the friends of Greece in Switzerland 
to the friends of Greece in England ; but he was grievously 
disappointed by the coldness of English feeling on the sub- 
ject. He told us he doubted whether there was a single 
citizen of Geneva who had not contributed his mite to this 
great cause, but that he had not been able to make any 
impression on the Greek Committee in London correspond- 
ing to his hopes and expectations. 

It was not without deep emotion, though regret made a 
small part of it, that I learned from Miss Aikin that dear 
Mrs. Barbauld had been taken from us. She died on the 
9th of March, 1825, without much suffering, and retained 
her faculties to the very last. She was a woman of much 
deeper feeling than the world imagined; but the great 
peculiarity of her mind, together with the extent of its 
powers, both when we consider the brilliancy of her im- 
agination and the depth of her understanding, was the 
remarkable diffidence of her character. This arose from an 
exquisite sensibility, which never was displayed, but con- 
stantly escaped. I consider it one of the greatest privileges 
of my life to have been in habits of intimacy with tliis 
incomparable woman, and never felt so humble as in her 
society. Her own modesty of character inspired this 
feeling in others ; and as reverence is only a modification 
of the devotional feelings, it was impossible to be with 
Mrs. Barbauld without feeliuo^ the better for it. 



LETTER TO MRS. LAY COCK. 167 

[2b Mrs. Laycock. 

" AUCHINDINNY, April l%th, 1825. 

" The severe blow you met with so lately, although it will 
have made all other sorrows light in comparison, and chastened 
even the happiness that may be in reserve for you, will make 
you feel the sentiment of thankfulness more sensibly than you 
ever did before. I speak from experience. It is eight years 
this day since we lost our precious Grace. It was a stroke that 
gave a reality to every succeeding event. It made every other 
sorrow sink to its proper level. It made every remaining bless- 
ing more than ever valued. It taught that most important 
truth — a constant dependence on the providence of God, and 
a thankfulness, never before properly understood, for His 
merciful support in the hour of bitterest trial. It took away 
much of the fear of death, and made life a thing so very pre- 
carious and uncertain as to be valued only for the use that was 
made of it in reference to another state of existence. You and 
I, my dear friend, have met with similar trials in our family, 
and we know better than ever how to feel for each other. But 
oh ! how many mercies are spared to us, and how sinful would 
be our unthankfulness! "] 

We took the variety of a three months' stay in Edin- 
burgh in the winter of 1826-27, which, from my husband's 
improved health, he was also able to enjoy in a quiet way, 
seeing his old friends in the morning, and we doing so in 
the evening. It was during one of these small evening 
parties, when I remember Sydney Smith happened to be 
in Edinburgh, and spent that evening at our house, that 
my son Miles, returning from the Theatrical Fund dinner, 
joined our party and announced that " The Great Unknown " 
had, on Sir Walter Scott's health being drunk, risen 
and acknowledged himself to be the author of " Waverley," 
" Guy Mannering," etc. Though the fact was as well 
known, as if he had proclaimed it at the market cross, 
ten years before, this public and unexpected acknowledg- 



168 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

ment produced a great sensation not only on the people 
present, but throughout every circle in Edinburgh. The 
secret had been extracted from him by the unfortunate state 
of his affairs, involved as he was in Constable's bank- 
ruptcy. Sir Walter was one of those great men who had 
an undue estimate of the " pride of life." He did not 
care for money, but he cared much for baronial towers 
and aristocratical distinction ; and yet this taste was 
unaccompanied with haughtiness of disposition or manners. 
It was rather .the romance of his character that had led 
him to add acre to acre, and to found the family of Scott 
of Abbotsford ; for there was nothing sordid in his nature ; 
he was frank and kind-hearted, as much beloved by his 
poor neighbors as he was admired and courted by the great. 
It must always be regretted that the labors of his busy 
life failed to secure him an honorable independence in his 
advanced years ; and yet he was never more truly great 
than when he said, on declaring himself insolvent, '* But 
this right hand shall work me out of my difficulties ; " and 
so it would, had his life been prolonged. There can be 
little doubt, however, that the painful excitement of the dif- 
ficulties, which he met so bravely, broke down his constitu- 
tion and shortened his life. 

"We spent an agreeable three months in Edinburgh, and 
returned to Auchindinny in the month of Ajjril, 1827. 
"We had not long returned there when we had very dis- 
tressing accounts of Angus being taken ill at Rome in May, 
1827. We sent our kind relation, Lieut. M'Nicol, to 
travel home with him, and the following winter he spent 
with us in complete retirement, and gradually recovered 
his health of body and mind in the spring of 1828. At 
this time we were not without much anxiety about Miles's 
health, which began to decline, and Mr. Fletcher became 
visibly more feeble and less cheerful. I remember his 



MR. FLETCHER'S DECLINING HEALTH. 169 

saying that he thought he had now lived as long as life 
was desirable, on which I reminded him that not many- 
years ago he had said that he should like to live his life 
over again. He smiled, and said, " Yes, my dear, my 
married life." His tenderness of expression seemed to 
increase towards all connected with him, and he often spoke 
of me to his children, and of them to me with the fondest 
affection. That summer, the last of his life, several old 
friends came to paj^ their respects to him ; among others 
Mrs. Ker, Miss Forster, Mrs. Spiers, and her daughter 
Mary. He continued to take the warmest interest in 
public events, and at this time the Greek Revolution occu- 
pied his thoughts, and his daughters used to read to him 
and write for him whenever he desired it. He never used 
spectacles, and was able to read easily till within five or 
six weeks of his death. Towards the middle or end of 
November of that sad year our dear Mrs. Taylor took his 
loved grandchild Elizabeth to stay, as we thought, some 
months with my aunt at Tadcaster. I still think I see 
our precious Elizabeth with her brother in the little pony- 
carriage, attended by LunnSn, the gardener's wife, leading 
the pony through the avenue at Auchindinny, she taking 
her last look of a place she had loved so dearly. Her 
mother went the day before, and they both stayed some 
days with Miles in Edinburgh before they set out for 
Yorkshire. They had not been gone a week before we 
heard that the dear aunt to whom they were going had 
been seized with apoplexy, which had very much affected 
her mind. The next letter from Mrs. Taylor told us that 
her Elizabeth was ill, very feverish, and she was uneasy 
about her. Next day, Mary, who had been staying in 
Edinburgh for a few days, unexpectedly appeared at Auchin- 
dinny late at night, and with a countenance of deep distress 
told us that Elizabeth's complaint was typhus fever, and 



170 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

that she was in great danger. Margaret returned to 
Edinburgh in the carriage that brought Mary home, and 
she and Angus set off without delay to Tadcaster. The 
dear child knew her aunt Margaret, to whom she was 
warmly attached. She watched by her constantly, sharing 
with her mother the office of a nurse. But it pleased God 
to take her from them, and never did a purer or holier 
spirit return to Him who gave it. She had lived with us 
eleven years, and we could not remember when we lost her 
that she had ever said or done a thing to grieve us. She 
died on the 15th of December, 1828, at the age of thirteen 
years and seven months, and was buried in a vault adjoining 
to that of the Hill family in the north aisle of Tadcaster 
church. 

When Mary and I received accounts of her death we 
were watching by the deathbed of her grandfather. Mr. 
Fletcher's mind was so acute that we did not tell him of 
her death, he would have felt it so severely. Not many 
days before his death Mr. Turner, our family surgeon, came 
from Edinburgh to pay him a friendly visit. I happened 
to be out of the room when he arrived, but I found him 
giving Mr. Fletcher an account of the successful struggle 
the Greeks were making against their Turkish oppressors. 
I never saw Mr, Fletcher look more animated, and turning 
to me he said, " My dear, Mr. Turner says I must take 
some port wine, and you must take a glass with us, to wish 
success to the Greeks." I mention this as an instance of 
the public passion being strong in death. After that day 
he spoke little, but was in a placid, thankful, happy state 
of mind. He had always said he hoped he should die in 
the midst of his family. On the 19 th of December I had 
a letter from Miles, expressing great distress in not being 
allowed by his medical men to come and see him, on 
account of his severe cou2,h and the medical treatment 



DEATH OF MR. FLETCHER. 171 

thought necessary for it. His father said, in a strong and 
cheerful tone, " By no means ; write and tell him I entreat 
him not to come." Late that evening Angus arrived from 
Yorkshire ; he had set off from the funeral of his niece, 
and only reached Auchindinny a few hours before his 
father died. Dear Mary and I had been the only members 
of his family that were about his bed, owing to the variety 
of our family afflictions at the time ; but when I told him 
Angus had come, though too weak to speak audibly, an 
expression of pleasure passed over his countenance. As he 
seemed disposed to sleep, Mary and I left him for a few 
hours in the charge of my son Angus, and an excellent maid 
of mine of the name of Brown, whom he liked much as a 
nurse, and who frequently read to him. Our good medical 
attendant from Penicuik, Mr. Renton, remained with us 
that night, and was in a room which opened into his. 
About two o'clock in the morning Angus came to tell us 
that all was over. 

Thus closed a union of thirty-seven years of .as much hap- 
piness as is commonly the portion of human life. During 
all that time I never experienced an unkind word or deed 
from my husband ; I never knew him do a thing that was 
not strictly honorable and high-principled. Considering 
the great disparity of our years, there was unusual sym- 
pathy between us. He had none of that narrow and paltry 
feeling which belongs to men of little minds, a desire of exer- 
cising power and authority in small matters. His indulgence 
towards me knew no bounds, and he secured my respect and 
affection by the virtues of his character, the soundness of 
his understanding, and the tenderness of his heart. It was 
my happiness to be able to sympathize completely in all his 
public feelings and opinions. If I had not done so, our 
union would have been far less happy; for he lived in 
times when private interests were sacrificed to public princi- 



172 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

pies by all who truly loved truth and justice, and had minds 
sufficiently enlightened and honesty sufficiently steadfast to 
prefer the public good to private and personal advancement. 

\_Miles A. Fletcher's letter to his mother, from bed, on the day 
of his father's futieral. 

''2ith December, 1828. 
" My dearest Mother, — It was very kind of you to write 
to me. Be assured my ailment is yielding to Dr. Thomson's 
vigorous practice and gi'eat care. I cannot attempt to say how 
much the necessity of confinement to bed on this day distresses 
me, yet I know it is the course which would be most accept- 
able to the affectionate spirit now at rest. We have much of 
the purest pleasure in store in recalling recollections of the 
virtues which ennobled my father's character. They make me 
feel proud ; and although I cannot hope to adorn his name, yet 
I trust it will be transmitted by me without dishonor. I 
trust George is impressed, by some conversations we have had, 
in a way you would wish; but I have not strength now to 
enlarge on a subject which at this solemn hour so fully engrosses 
me. My wife joins with me in warmly affectionate sympathy. 

— I am always your grateful and loving son, 

"Miles A. Fletcher." 

It was during the first winter we spent at Auchindinny that 
we persuaded my mother to print her " Dramatic Sketches," 
which had been written at Callander a few years before. A 
selection from the many lettei'S she received from true and 
loving friends about the Dramatic Sketches is here inserted: — ■ 

From 3Irs. Grant of Laggan. 

" Now I must tell you of the impression your dramas have 
left on my mind, though I cannot yet be said to have read 
them critically. I fear you will scarce consider it a compli- 
ment when I tell you that they far exceeded my exjDectations 

— not that I expected less, in some respects, than I found. I 
looked for exalted moral feeling, purity of sentiment, and the 
utmost purity of style, but — truth to say — I did not expect 



LETTERS ON "DRAMATIC SKETCHES:^ 173 

you to be so poetical, or to understand — what one might call 
the technical part — the management of the drama so well. 
The whole performance bears evident marks of being a tran- 
script from your own mind, an abstract of those feelings and 
principles on which you have thought, spoken, and acted. I 
should think it a kind and friendly thing to point out any 
blemish that I might observe in your work, not with the view 
of altering or amending, but to prove my sincerity and try 
your patience. Now, I really can find nothing in the language 
or sentiments but what appears to me to be admirable as a 
composition. There is no prominence of striking or glowing 
passages, but the whole is finely and consistently sustained. 
There is a masculine strength in the language, yet the purity 
and delicacy of the thoughts expressed seem to belong to 
woman's softer breast. The characters are well sustained and 
sufficiently discriminated. ' Elidure,' I think, will please more 
generally. It is delightful to think such a character really 
existed ; to add life and coloring to such a portrait sketched 
by Milton must have been a delightful task ; and I could well 
suppose you to have luxuriated in it. Not seldom the practised 
and the professed and shameless selfishness of worldly characters 
has so wearied and disquieted me, that I feel a kind of triumph 
when I have any character,-'living or dead, to hold up for the 
honor of human nature as consistently actuated by noble 
motives. You have yourself, my dear friend, done me good 
service in this respect." 

The Rev. Archibald Alison, her valued friend and pastor for 
very many years, wrote thus on the same subject: — 

"I have waited until I heard of your return to Scotland 
to offer you my grateful thanks for the honor you have con- 
ferred upon me by the copy of your dramas, and for the 
delight you have given to me and mine by the perusal of them. 
We expected much, and even more than our expectations has 
been fulfilled. We have found in them everywhere the con- 
ceptions of a noble and exalted mind, in many passages much 
vigor, and in many others much felicity of poetic expression, 
and in all a facility in the management of tragic verse which 
would do honor to any dramatic author. I have found, 



174 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

however (for here I must speak in my own name, being 
happily the only critic in the family), a great unacquaintance 
■with the craft of the drama, some negligence of the value of 
your own materials, and an ignorance, perhaps a disdain, of 
the art of setting them off by the common tricks of the stage. 
All this, however, if you wish to adapt them for representation, 
might be easily supplied. You have provided the gems, and a 
very inferior hand might set them, so as to give to their own 
natural brilliancy the advantages of artificial position. If you 
have no wish of this kiud, you have at least the satisfaction of 
leaving to your grandchildren a domestic memorial which, 
in their eyes and in the eyes of those that follow them, will, 
I doubt not, be more valuable ' than all Bokhara's vaunted 
gold, and all the gems of Samarcand.' " 

Joanna Baillie writes in August, 1825: — 

"I have just risen from the second reading of your very 
pleasing dramas, and will no longer delay my immediate thanks 
to yourself, though I have written to your son on the subject, 
and begged of him to convey to you my grateful acknowledg- 
ments. I owe them for being kindly included amongst the 
friends to whom you give this token of regard, and 1 owe them 
for the pleasure I have received in perusing works of so much 
generous feeling and noble sentiment and principles clothed in 
such beautiful and harmonious verse. There cannot be a more 
perfect character as a mother and a queen than you have 
portrayed in ' Rowena;' and the entire rectitude and nobleness 
of it are so simply, naturally, and forcibly expressed, that it 
gives an originality which one does not often meet with in 
these days iu dramatic subjects. 

' What! ask a noble nation to be slaves, — 
To crouch and fawn beneath a tyrant's feet. 
Because he was my son ? ' 

are noble and forcible lines, the spirit of which is sustained 
through the whole play, joined to great tenderness and affec- 
tion. The flowers of poetry, too, which adorn both dramas, 
are pleasingly and happily introduced. If I were a play-going 
person I should probably prefer the second piece, which has 



LETTERS ON "DRAMATIC SKETCHES:^ 175 

more of dramatic effect; but the first is my favorite, and I 
believe I shall have a good proportion of your readers to agree 
with me. I read the first aloud to Mrs. Baillie and my sister 
as soon as I received the book, and they were both very much 
pleased, and beg me to offer you their thanks for that gratifica- 
tion. I congratulate you very heartily on your success, and I 
congratulate those who will feel it more than you do, — Mr. 
Fletcher and your daughters." 

From Lucy Aikin to Angus Fletcher. 

" August 13, 1825. 
"It is with real satisfaction, my dear sir, that I prepare to 
give you my sentiments on the 'Dramatic Sketches.' Had 
they been sent to me anonymously I am certain that I should 
have discovered in them the spirit of my friend, that spirit 
which magnanimity and tenderness share between them so 
equally that neither of them encroaches on the other, but both 
blend into one noble and touching whole. When I find in any 
work such evidence of a high soul, I really cannot descend to 
the minuteness of technical criticism. I am satisfied with 
language which clearly and energetically conveys the thought, 
and I do not examine by rulesof art the construction of the 
fable. Your recoinmendation'of reading the last first implies 
that it is your favorite, but here I differ from you ; the noble 
mother of ' Elidure ' is my friend's own self, and interests me 
more than all ; besides, the subject appears to me more inter- 
esting and more satisfactory, for I confess I have not so 
disciplined rebel nature as to have lost all pleasure in poetical 
justice. I would in fiction at least take vengeance of the 
wicked first, and pity and forgive them after. Besides, I can 
scarcely reconcile myself to the ruffian ' Dunstan ' converted 
into a philosophic sage, and the grovelling superstition which 
he made the instrument of his pride and ambition changed into 
a benignant and beautiful faith, which has no temples through- 
out the world, even in this age, but the hearts of the purest and 
the most enlightened followers of a Divine philosophy. But 
this affects not the intrinsic beauty of the characters, which is 
very striking. I hope your dear mother will be encouraged to 
embody more of those high and lovely conceptions in verse." 



176 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

To E. F., on reading her " Dramatic Sketches." 

"Whose dreams are these ? and art thou still the same 

As erst when T beheld thee, lofty dame, 

Some twenty years now past, when fancies high 

And fire-fed thoughts illumed thy noble eye, 

And patriot aims which seem for man designed, 

With poesy and gentle heart combined, 

And womanly romance, to make the sheen 

Of thy discourse as beauteous as thy mien? 

Why do thy mind and spirit show no trace 

Of Time's dominion? Has it spared thy face? 

Come, show it me! What wild delight to see 

That aught of noble beauteous good can be 

Immortal here. I have not found them yet 

Survive an hour, although I oft have set 

My watch to measure them. Oh ! where are they, 

The young enthusiasts, the spirits gay. 

The brows unwritten on, the lips unstung 

By grief, or not remembered ? — tell me where 

Is he, the rhapsodist once welcome there? 

All, all are in the tomb — they are no more, 

Who are not what they were, doth time restore ? 

No! though he comes with smiles, dispensing joys, 

Alike his advent and his flight destroys, 

And hope, and harmony, and bliss devour 

Their favorites, victims, I have felt their power 

And sorrows too, and but a wreck is left 

Of hopes and fears, of peace and joy bereft. 

Where ai'e the happy beings I have known 

Ai'ound thee? infant-blooms and blisses, flowTi. 

Thy children now are matrons; a new race — 

Their children, hope and revel in their place. 

But thou art still the same; thy spirit's youth 

Remains unbowed, enamoured still of truth; 

Thy heart of dreams unchangeable, thine age 

Not less romantic, nor thy youth less sage. 

And worldly wisdom leaves untainted still 

Thy pious mind, and innocence of will ; 



LETTER FROM MRS. FLETCHER. 177 

All this thy dramas show, and yet I deem 
Thee less for poet formed, than poet's theme. 

Sinclair Cullen, 1826. 

A characteristic letter from our Mother, and a fatherly P. S. 

" December, 1825. 

"I must begin by scolding you for not sending your letter 
in time for the post-bag. Yesterday's post-bag was a blank to 
me. Then I will not scold dear aunty for wishing to keep you 
longer, but we must have you home before Christmas. Good 
Miss P. has agreed to come to aunt when you leave her. It 
will be four months since I pai'ted from you, and indeed, indeed 
I cannot let you stay longer from home. 

" This has been a barren week with us as well as with you, 
the snow, sleet, drizzling rain, and mist, so bad that Missy and 
I have had no walks together to the village. A letter from 
Miss Wesley about the Dramas has been the only gratifying 
circumstance. Truly, dear child, I begin to fear these gratify- 
ing letters are not for my soul's good; they please me more 
than they ought to please one who has lived more than half a 
century. If Margaret and you had allowed me to get a good 
trimming fi'om some practised jxecutioner, in the character of 
a scornful, contemptuous reviewer, it might have done me more 
good than all the flattering unction that I have taken to my soul. 
The way that I discover it has done me no good is from a 
feeling of disappointment, when no notice is taken of my little 
book by those to whom I have sent it. All who know me 
agree with Mrs. Grant, that the book is a metrical transcript 
of the author's mind. Still, like all otherworldly gratifications, 
this has its dangers, if it makes me less distrustful of myself, 
less lowly-minded. I pray fervently against this temptation. 
On the whole, the plays have certainly met with much more 
praise than I or any of you expected; and if I know myself at 
all, much of the gratification their approval has afforded is the 
pleasure your father and all our children have had in it. ' ' 

To this our father adds : — 

" Tell our very kind aunt that we are very sorry to deprive 
8* L 



178 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

her of your society, but we have an unconquerable longing for 
your coming home after so long an absence. I hope you do 
not think of going to Ripon. If I thought you could bestow 
time to go there, I would not agree to your leaving aunt so 
soon. If you cannot get a companion in a post-chaise, my wish 
would certainly be that you should travel by yourselves in a 
chaise, and not go a mile in the dark. If you cannot think of 
this, the mail is certainly the safest. A. F." 

The following part of a letter from T. Campbell at this time 
shows how much he valued my mother's friendship, and also 
the tyranny exercised by the two leading Reviews of the day, 
as well as the pain their verdict inflicted on sensitive minds, 
even in this case, on one of such established fame as the author 
of "Gertrude of Wyoming " and " HohenUnden :" — 

Thomas Campbell to Mrs. Fletcher. 

"Seymouk Street London, March, 1825. 

" Is it very unmanly in me, my dear friend, to feel cut and 
sore at the hard injustice, as I think, which has been dealt to 
me in the Quarterly Review of Theodoric? Read the article, 
and either your opinion must have been converted, or I imagine 
you will be indignant at the assertion that Theodoric is but a 
bold dragoon, and Julia and Constance are but so-and-so. I 
received your favorable opinion of the poem, my dear Mrs. 
Fletcher, with a degree of pride which has perhaps made my 
mind more sensitive than it would otherwise have been to this 
affront. It makes me feel the injustice of it to be the grosser. 
What! has it touched your intellectual heart, and is a heartless 
reviewer to say uncontradicted that the work is uninteresting? 
But I must say that I address you now as the being who best 
miderstood, and who I foresaw would best understand, all the 
moral beauty of my characters. Forgive this if it look like 
either vanity or flattery. It is certainly not meant to be the 
latter. Theodoric was the production of what I may call the 
maturity of my moral feelings. All my life I have speculatively 
seen that the calm of mind produced by our cherishing the 
pure and kindly affections, and dismissing as far as it is possible 



LETTER FROM THOMAS CAMPBELL. 179 

all personal hatreds, is the only balm of this otherwise wretched 
existence. I believe a rebuke from yourself ou the score of my 
being satirical was the first cause of my beginning to practise 
this truth. Imperfectly, I confess to you, I have practised it. 
I think I ought to say nothing for myself, but I ask your advice 
if anything can be said for me. It is no answer to say that 
Jeffrey's high praise is all set down to the score of his partiality 
for me. In fact, between ourselves, he does not understand 
the poem. Any one who can say that Constance is the same 
as Gertrude is obtuse on the subject. Constance is meant for 
a great moral character, with whom it was requisite to have 
been long acquainted 

' Before the mind completely understood 
That mighty truth — how happy are the good.' 

" These lines I knew would find an echo of sympathy in your 
mind. I have drawn the tears of approbation from your eyes, 
and from those of other women something resembling you in 
character. The only difficulty in the way of the office at which 
I hint is the repugnance which I can well imagine you will feel 
at giving publicity to your literary opinion ; but an expression 
of sincere approbation from some intellectual mind and heart 
is, I humbly think, due — thorfgK still I shall not be offended 
with you if you tell me the contrary. 

" God bless you. I am already better for this confession of 
my feelings. — Yours, T. C." 



PART lY. 

About a month after my husband's death Mary and I 
left Auchindinny with many tears. It had been a blessed 
home to us for five years, and we left it uncertain as to 
our future plans, and with that feeling of desolateness which 
the breaking up of such a home involves. We had enjoyed 
much and we had suffered much there. We had formed 
several warm friendships among our poor neighbors, and 
we had enjoyed the visits of many valued friends, from far 
and near. Dear Mrs. Erskine, the widow of Henry Erskine 
and the sister of Sir Thomas Monro, was a frequent guest, 
a delightful companion to old and young. Mr. Fletcher 
delighted in her society, and so did my daughters. She 
cheered the latter years of her distinguished husband as no 
one else could have done, for she understood all his wit and 
wisdom, and supported him under many family trials by 
her unfailing sweetness and genuine piety. We had fre- 
quent visits from that delightful thinker, writer, and con- 
verser, Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, to whom we were so 
deeply indebted for the kind interest he took in my son 
Angus during the dangerous illness he had at Eome in 1827. 
T. Erskine and my old friend Mr. Clowes were more of 
kindred spirits than any men of spiritual natures I have 
met with in life. Dear Mrs. Grant of Laggan, and her 
daughter Mary, who had all her genius and more refinement, 
were often with us. We there first became acquainted with 



LETTER TO DR. FRANCIS BOOTT. 181 

Professor Sedgwick and Dr. "VVhewell, who came together 
to Auchindinny ; and we used to benefit by the neighbor- 
hood of the excellent family of Cowan at Penicuik, whose 
intimacy with Dr. Chalmers often brought him there, both 
to preach and shed the genial influence of his conversational 
powers among their friends and neighbors. 

After spending a week with my son Miles in Edinburgh 
we joined Mrs. Taylor and Margaret at Tadcaster, taking 
my grandson, Archibald Taylor, with us. His mother had 
no wish to return to Edinburgh, and I felt it to be my first 
duty now to devote myself for the present to alleviate, if 
possible, the sufferings of the aunt who had taken a mother's 
care of me in my infancy. 

I took lodgings at Thorp Arch, a pleasant village four 
miles from Tadcaster, where there was a good day-school 
at which my grandson could go on with his education, near 
his mother's lodgings. One of her sisters remained with 
her, and one with me by turns in my aunt's house so that 
we were all within an easy reach of each other, and had the 
variety of frequent meetings. ^, 

[ To Dr. Francis Boott. 

" Tadcaster, April, 1829. 
"My dear Friend, — I can no longer withhold my con- 
gratulations to you on the grand event — the Catholic Relief 
Bill. Who would have supposed that the Clare Election and 
the Irish Association would have opened the eyes of the blind 
and made the dumb to speak? The conquest of prejudice and 
the sacrifice of consistency to public good are honorable indeed 
to the present leaders in both Houses of Parliament. Truer 
patriotism than Wellington's and Peel's I do not remember, 
unless it is O'Connell's, who has nobly sacrificed popularity in 
declining to insist on his right to sit in Parliament in virtue 
of his late election rather than throw any impediment in the 
way of the great measure. 



182 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" But while we laud the public virtue of the chat^ipions of 
this Bill, what shall we say of the base artifices used to stir up 
the people against it? If the Church is in danger, it is her 
own sons who have by their unchristian spirit created that 
danger. A friend just returned from Ireland assures me he 
never saw that country so tranquil and contented. Jt is a gener- 
ous people, and surely a grateful people. You would see a 
meeting has been held in Dublin to vote an estate to O'Connell 
as a reward for his public services, that he may be an indepen- 
dent Member of Parliament. The resolutions were moved 
alternately by Catholics and Protestants. 

'' Let us hear of yourself, of dear Mrs. Boott and your pre- 
cious children. We are all recovering health and spirits after 
our great sorrows. We love each other so dearly that for each 
other's sake we do not dare to indulge in grief. Those we 
mourn are best honored by our endeavoring best to discharge 
our remaining duties. 

" You will be glad to hear your friend Angus is making 
good progress in his profession. He has been living happily 
and quietly for the last six weeks with our kind old friend Sir 
Robert Listen, who has fitted up a studio for him at Millburn 
Tower, and finds much interest in watching his progress. Sir 
Robert is now a lonely man ; his wife and he both loved Angus, 
and Angus venerates him, and they are good companions for 
each other."] 

Three months thus passed on, and my aunt was soothed 
by my jiresence near her. Although unable to enjoy life 
any longer, she became less unhappy. Any immediate 
danger passed away, and we began to form some plans for 
the future. I was very desirous that ray grandson should 
have the advantage of the best education that could be had, 
and where his mother could be near him. Dr. Arnold had 
been appointed head-master of Rugby School not long 
before, and after I read his pamphlet on " The Christian 
Duty of Conceding the Roman Catholic Claims," which 
■was published about that time, I decided this was the 
school for M6". Our cousin and friend, T. Shann, an old 



THE COTTAGE AT BILTON, NEAR RUGBY. 183 

Rugbean who knew the neighborhood, undertook to find 
a cottage for us within the school limits, where the boy 
could have the advantages of the education of Rugby and 
live at home with his mother. 

I went to Rugby with my daughters Margaret and Mary, 
early in May, to make arrangements for the future, and we 
took possession of the cottage secured for us at Bilton the 
following day. 

We found our cottage dwelling a peaceful and refreshing 
change to our wearied spirits. We knew no one there; 
but " earth and sky " were blessings to us after a small 
country town street, and we soon experienced the greatest 
comfort and happiness in the society of Dr. and Mrs. 
Arnold, who came to see us shortly after we were settled 
at Bilton, she on her pony and he walking beside her. 

I believe we were more than a week at Bilton before 
any one called on us, and my daughters began to amuse 
themselves by fearing that this new experience would not 
agree with my sociable tastes. Meantime, T cultivated the 
friendship of our good old Jajadlord, Mr. Daniell, our sub- 
ject of common interest being birds' nests, which he loved 
as much as I did, and kept carefully protected from the 
ruthless hands of village boys; but he pointed them out 
to me when I went out before breakfast into the little 
garden on the fine May mornings. He was a widower, 
and had no daughter, but he had a homely old housekeeper, 
who made him most comfortable, in the adjoining cottage 
to oiirs, and who paid him respectful attention. We did 
not know, for some time, that he had suffered a grief like 
that of '"Old Michael." His only son, also the child of 
his age, had gone astray like Luke. My old friend, Mr. 
Daniell, belonged to the same class as the statesman of 
Westmoreland; with greater kindness than they gener- 
ally show, "J^e also had found a comfort in the strength 



184 .4 UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

of love." I am often reminded of him bj our favorite 
neighbor, James Fleming of Grasmere. 

An agi'eeable family, of the name of Boddington, lived 
very near our cottage, at Bilton Hall, formerly the resi- 
dence of Joseph Addison after his marriage to Lady 
Warwick. These live sisters, all unmarried, lived together 
in great comfort. Their habits and modes of life were 
very different from ours, much more formal and precise. 
TTlien we saw their fine powdered footman open their pew- 
door and arrange their Prayer-books in exact order, and 
the rive ladies walk into chur.ch. we said to each other, 
*' These ladies will not approve of us." It soon, however, 
pro\ed otherwise. They called the following day. We 
returned it. were invited to the Hall. and. from being civil, 
they became kind and sociable. We found them amiable, 
intelligent, and well-bred, with a good deal of individu- 
ality. To the poor they were exceedingly kind and 
judiciously helpful ; and Ave always look back on their 
kindness to us, as strangers, with gratitude. When they 
first called on us, these ladies had a favorite niece stay- 
ing witli them, along with her father, Mr. Boddington. 
They went to their own home, in Shropshire, in a few 
days, before we had time to know what a treasure this 
niece was : but the impression had been made at first sight 
on my daughter 3[arv's imagination, and the aunts en- 
couraged the friendship by bringing Gracilla Boddington 
to visit us. both at Keen Ground and afterwards in Kent, 
and a warm friendship was formed, not only between the 
young, but the old also, for I can truly say that we have 
both found a blessing in Gracilla's affection and society. 
She always reminded me of Milton's glorious sonnet " To 
a Virtuous Young Lady," beginning — 

" Lady that, in the prime of earliest youth, 
AViselv has shunned the broad wav and the srreen." 



LETTETx TO MRS. CEAIG. 185 

Ir lias been a great pleasure to me thvough life to make 
friends of the friends of my ehildren, especially as time 
takes away my own, and thus make "relays of friendship" 
(as dear Benger used to say), and try to keep the heart 
young by adopting the interest of the present; and it 
has been a joy to me to know how many of nii/ friends 
my children have loved, and been loved by. 

It was during this pleasant month of June that Margaret, 
Mary, and I made a sort of poetical pilgrimage to Olney 
and Weston, to trace the haunts of our beloved Cowper 
and his Mary. 

[LetttT to Jlrs. Crai'ij. 

" BiLTOX, June 14, 1829. 
"It is now almost six weeks since we came here, and it is not 
possible to imagine a place more suited to our purpose, or unit- 
ing more agremens to our taste, than we have found here. 
Our cottage, indeed, is small ; but you know how happy even 
a large family can be in a small space. "We have a sweet 
parlor, opening with a glass door into a grass plat and flower- 
garden, — shut in from, but iiot excluding, a sight of one of the 
prettiest of English villages. Our landlord (who has had a 
liistory) does everything possible to make us comfortable ; 
there never was so obliging a person. The Hall house, 
formerly the residence of Joseph Addison, is now inhabited by 
five maiden sisters of the name of Boddington. They are 
judiciously kind to the poor, especially in regard to education, 
and are very civil and attentive to us ; but our great delights 
in the way of society are Dr. and Mrs. Arnold. They are 
truly a charming couple. She reminds us continually of 
Madame de Bossi in her frankness, vivacity, and quickness of 
observation. She has the same sweetness of nature, and is not 
unlike her in personal appearance, but on a larger scale. Dr. 
Armild is quite lirst-rate in talents, worth, and agreeableness. 
He published, three months ago, the best pamphlet that has 
appeared on the Christian duty of granting Catholic Emancipa- 
tion, and is now at intervals of leisure writing notes for a new 



186 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

edition of Thucydides, a work he had undertaken before he 
•was chosen head-master of Rugby, ^^'ith all this learned and 
literary labor he is most diligent in his calling. In his own 
family he is delightful, always ready for conversation, liberal 
in politics, and high-toned in morals. He has published a 
volume of sermons, which we admire extremely, and we heard 
him preach in the School chapel a most excellent and impres- 
sive sermon to the boys. It is not, perhaps, the least of the 
merits of this agreeable couple that they have taken to us in 
the most cordial manner possible. We feel as if we had known 
them as many years as we have actually done weeks. Our 
next agreeable neighbors are the Moultries. He is the rector 
of Rugby, and married a niece of my dear fi'iend Miss Fergus- 
son, of Monkwood. They have also been most kind to us. 
Mr. Moultrie is a very able man, and an accomplished scholar 
and poet. We have made some pleasant excursions in the 
neighborhood, for we have hired a double gig and a quiet 
horse for two months, that Mrs. Taylor when she comes may 
see a little farther than her feet would carry her. Our first 
expedition was one of thirty miles, to Olney in Buckingham- 
shire, to see the haunts of the poet Cowper. A\'e traced him 
from his residence in the IMarket Place of that dull little town, 
one of the most unpoetical situations you can imagine, to the 
beautiful village of Weston, about two miles distant, where, in 
going to look for a house for Lady Hesketh, he found one 
which suited him and Mrs. Unwin."] 

Before I returned to my post of duty at Tadcaster, the 
end of July, we spent a few days at the School House at 
Rugby, and partook of the home life of happiness enjoyed 
there by our new but already dear friends, Dr. and Mrs. 
Arnold. 

It was a family custom retained from the Penrose house- 
hold (Mrs. Arnold's old home) for each member of the 
family to repeat or read a favorite hymn before the chil- 
dren went to bed, and we were delighted to hear the 
hymns from " The Christian Year " repeated by little Jane 
Arnold and her brothers. 



DR. J. DAVY'S VISIT. 187 

My daughters had become great admirers of " The 
Christian Year" before this time, and we then heard all 
about the college friendship and intimacy between Mr. 
Keble and Dr. Arnold, who always called him " dear old 
Keble," and they both spoke of him with peculiar love and 
admiration. Mr, Keble came as one of the Oxford Ex- 
aminers of the school that summer to the Arnolds, and my 
daughters had the gratification of meeting him at the 
School House, as they remained a few weeks at Bilton 
after I left it. We still retained the cottage for the year 
we had taken it, although our family plans had been 
changed by Mrs. Taylor having decided to rejoin her 
husband, then employed in Ireland ; her son was therefore 
placed at one of the master's houses in the town of 
Rugby. 

In October, 1829, I had a letter from our old friend Dr. 
John Davy, who had gone from Malta, where he was then 
stationed, to attend Sir H. Davy during a long illness he 
had at Rome, and was travelling home with his brother 
when Sir Humphry was ^seized by a severe attack of 
illness at Geneva, and died there on their homeward 
journey. 

Dr. Davy offered me a visit, which I gladly accepted, 
having been in the habit of corresponding with him from 
the time he graduated at Edinburgh in 1814. 

I had returned to Bilton for a few weeks to refresh my 
spirits before winter, Mary having taken my place at Tad- 
caster during my absence. Dr. Davy said he wished to 
read to me a MS. his brother had left to him for publica- 
tion which he greatly admired. My dear old friend Miss 
Fergusson had joined my daughter Margaret and me at 
Bilton Cottage, and as we happened to be snowed up for 
some days early in the winter, we had full time to listen 
to and admire " The Consolations in Travel," read to us 



188 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

by tlie brother of the distinguished philosopher, and read 
with a degree of emotion at times which excited a new 
interest in the man who felt as he did the loss of his friend 
and brother. Dr. Davy went to London from Bilton to 
publish the volume, and asked permission to visit us again 
in Yorkshire on his way to Edinburgh, before his return 
to Malta, 

On our way back to Tadcaster in December, Margaret 
and I paid a very interesting visit at the Parsonage at 
Bracebridge to Mr. and Mrs. Penrose.-"- She was my 
friend Mr. Cartwright's second daughter. She was at the 
time I speak of a happy wife, and the mother of three 
promising sons, a most delightful woman, with a lively, 
active, accomplished mind, and the most engaging sweet- 
ness and simplicity of manners. She had married Mrs. 
Arnold's eldest brother, a learned and estimable man. 
This renewal of intercourse was a great pleasure to me. 

[^Extract from Mrs. John Penrose's Diary, after a visit from 
her Father's old friend. 

" Bracebridge, December IQth, 1829. 
" We had the great gratification of a visit of two days from 
Mrs. Fletcher. Her appearance is so engaging, that the mere 
looking at her is itself a pleasure. In her youth she was 
brilliantly beautiful (she is about sixty) ; she retains so much 
symmetry of feature, so much fine expression of countenance, 
and so much grace of deportment, such a gentle-womanliness of 
manner, wi^h such an expression of goodness, as make her 
absolutely lovely. She is rather fat than thin, and her beauty 
is matured more than faded. Her conversation is delightful, 
full of variety and anecdote. She is an enthusiast in politics, 
and on what is called the Liberal side, but there is such a 
feminineness in all she says and does, that even her politics 
could not alloy the charm of her agreeableness. She has a 

1 Tlie " Mrs. Markham," author of School Histories. 



RETURN TO TAD CASTER. 189 

most extensive acquaintance with literary persons, and her 
conversation is a stream of lively anecdote continually flow- 
ing."] 

When we arrived at Tadcaster we were soon followed 
by Dr. Davy, whose correspondence and persuasion had 
overcome Margaret's hesitation to commit her happiness to 
his keeping. As he wished to see his friends in Edinburgh, 
and to settle some matters of business with my son Miles, 
Mary, who was going to visit her brother, accompanied Dr. 
Davy there. We had heard from Miles and his wife of his 
increased illness, but I had taken no serious alarm till Dr. 
Davy's return, when, in answer to my inquiries about him, 
I saw by the expression of his countenance that there was 
great danger in his case, and he confessed he thought so. 
This was a terrible blow to me. Miles's life was infinitely 
precious and valuable to us all ; he was in the prime of life, 
then thirty-seven. My hopeful temper forbade despair 
of his recovery, and Mary's letters from Edinburgh were 
encouraging. 

Dr. Davy left us for Loiidon in a few days, as his leave 
of absence from his professional duties at Malta was very 
limited. The marriage was fixed to take place on the 8th 
of March. A strange state of conflicting feelings takes 
place in a mother's heart in the approaching marriage of 
a beloved daughter. Her own loss is certain, the gain of 
happiness to her child must always be uncertain ; but 
where there is soundness of principle and understanding, 
and great afiectionateness of heart, marriage (always a 
lottery) seems the best chance of happiness for a woman 
who, when she has lost her parents and near domestic ties 
and duties in the paternal home, too often experiences 
" that hung^ of the heart," that want of obj ect in life, 
which nothing but a kind husband and affectionate chil- 
di'en can supply. Hence it is that a mother sacrifices her 



190 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

own present to her daughter's prospective happiness, and 
with a sad but trusting hope gives up the first place in her 
child's affections to another. 

Some weeks passed on in marriage preparations. Miles 
and Mary, and then Angus, arrived. If Miles's altered 
looks the year before had struck and pained me, this was 
much more the case when I saw him now. My hopes of 
his recovery were fainter, but in sympathy with the occa- 
sion that brought him he was in good spirits, and never 
complained of illness or pain. He gave his sister in 
marriage to Dr. Davy on the 8th of March, 1830, in the 
same church where her parents had been united. 

The wedded pair ' set off immediately after the ceremony, 
and Miles, Mary, and I posted the following day en route 
for London, while Angus went to Sir Robert Liston's 
kind home. We paid a short visit to our dear friends at 
Rugby on our way, and also at Oxford, which Miles much 
enjoyed. He had never been in London until now, and I 
was very desirous he should have the advice of Dr. Marshall 
Hall, who besides his great reputation at the time, was one 
of those who, I felt sure, would take a deep and friendly 
interest in the case. A successful London career had never 
weakened Dr. Hall's recollection of his student life in 
Edinburgh, where he thought I had been of some use to 
him, and he never failed to show his sense of this, by the 
most friendly attention and able professional aid on many 
occasions to different members of my family. 

I took lodgings at Haike's Hotel, Duke Street, in the 
hope that dear Miles might have enjoyed seeing something 
of London in a quiet way, but he was quite unable for it, 
and was confined to his room by a sore throat when the 
Davys joined us. This however was an accidental ailment, 
not connected with his malady. He submitted with the 
most patient unselfishness to the disappointment of not 



VISIT TO LONDON AND PARIS. 191 

seeing London when in it at last. With the most generous 
consideration for the indulgence of others, he habitually 
exercised self-restraint, and was singularly inexpensive in 
his habits ; while he had the greatest pleasure in making 
kind presents and in relieving the poor, he was as free 
from ostentation as he was from selfishness. 

It was with the utmost reluctance that I could make up 
my mind to leave Miles ill iand alone in London, and I pro- 
posed to remain with him, and let Mary accompany the 
Davys to Paris, and return with our cousin, Mr. T. Shann, 
who was to be of our party. I remember the earnest way 
in which he begged me not to give ixp the plan of going to 
Paris, saying he especially wished me to go, as I might 
never again have an opportunity of seeing General Lafay- 
ette, and he knew we had good introductions to that great 
man ; besides, he added, " My wife is only too anxious to 
come, and I promise you to summon her, if I am not better, 
to-morrow." This decided me to go. and I heard of his wife 
having joined him when we arrived in Paris : she had, in- 
deed, set off the day we lef t Jdendon. 

I felt in a strange dream when I got to Paris, the scene, 
in my early married life, of such high hopes and bitter dis- 
appointments. We all felt more disposed to turn to the 
living actors left of those times than to see sights ; and, to 
assist my memory, I have recourse to our journal at the 
time. Owing to Chevalier Masclet's kindness, we paid a 
most interesting visit to the Abbe Gregoire, and were not 
disappointed in the deportment and conversation of this 
venerable member of the Constituent Assembly, and known 
by them as L'Ami des Noirs. He seemed to be holding a 
sort of levee, and soon after our arrival a free African from 
Hayti was announced, a youth who was attending the 
University of Paris. The Abbe spoke of our Clarkson 
with great admiration and pleasure, and we felt it to be a 



192 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

real gain to have seen so beautiful an example of serene old 
age. He was, as Thomas Erskine told us, very much one's 
idea of Fenelon, courteous, polished, full of benevolence and 
kind feeling for good men of all countries and colors. 

The Misses Garnet, some American ladies to whom we 
had brought letters of introduction, called to say General 
Lafayette would call on me at four o'clock. He came at 
that hour, and conversed most agreeably till six. "VVe were 
all delighted with the mildness, benevolence, and ease with 
which this great and good man entered into conversation, 
expressing, without the least egotism, the most liberal and 
extensive views. He spoke of a new colony for the recep- 
tion of liberated Negroes on the coast of Africa, called 
it " his daughter Liberia," and expressed the deepest in- 
terest in its success. We all went the same evening to a 
soiree at General Lafayette's, between nine and ten p. m. 
The suite of rooms, four of which were open, were much 
crowded, and the noise greater than at an English recep- 
tion. Chairs were placed round the second room, close to 
the wall, where the ladies sat. The middle of the room 
was filled by men, vociferating with great energy to each 
other ; many of these were distinguished members of the 
Chamber of Deputies. We were introduced to Benjamin 
Constant, very intellectual-looking, but in feeble health. 
He had a sickly, melancholy appearance, like one weary 
of the world — and no wonder. 

We continued to receive the kindest attention from the 
family of General Lafayette while we remained in Paris. 
His daughter, Madame de Lasteyrie, sometimes came to 
our hotel in the evening for an hour or two, and delighted 
to speak of her father. She said he enjoyed his retirement 
at La Grange extremely ; and there, surrounded by his 
grandchildren, and occupied with the cultivation of his estate, 
he passed a happy and serene old age. 



GENERAL LAFAYETTE AND MIGNET. 193 

There was something morally sublime in the contempla- 
tion of a character so pure and devoted as Lafayette's, so 
clear of party feeling, so free from egotism, so unspoiled by 
popularity, so unsoured by adversity and ingratitude. 

We were at that time (April, 1830) little aware that 
General Lafayette was again so soon to be placed at the 
head of the National Guards on the memorable three days 
of July in that year, when the destinies of France in the 
choice of an Executive Government were committed to 
those over whom he presided. 

When we saw him he expressed his entire confidence 
and satisfaction at the enlightened state of public opinion 
in France ; he said the people were now too well informed 
to admit of the Government taking measures subversive of 
their liberties ; and that Frenchmen had paid too dearly 
for their rights not to know how to cherish them. The 
tone of General Lafayette's conversation was more remark- 
able for mildness, moderation, and good sense, than for 
eloquence or brilliancy, but it gave me the impression of 
earnestness and honesty, and-a hopefulness wonderful even 
to me after all he had seen and suffered. The opinions of 
Mignet the historian, whom we met, with several other dis- 
tinguished literary men, at the evening receptions of Miss 
Clarke (now Madame Mohl), were more in accordance with 
the events which have since taken place at Paris than with 
the hopes of the sanguine general and patriot. Our journal 
records on Saturday, 9th April — " We met at Miss Clarke's, 
in the Rue Petite, St. Augustin, Mignet, the historian of 
the French Revolution." He is a man of about five-and- 
thirty, of a noble countenance, and very simple engaging 
manners. He has no other profession than that of litera- 
ture. His society is much sought, but he prefers retire- 
ment, and he is indeed not a man of the world, but he is 
singularly animated and eloquent in conversation, not for 

9 M 



194 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the sake of display, but from the interest he takes in the 
subject of which he speaks. He contended that nations, 
no more than individuals, have been ever known to profit 
by experience from the misfortunes of others. He thought 
the granting Catholic emancipation to Ireland was the only 
excerption. The English Government had profited by the 
experience of the Irish Rebellion of 1790. Mignet is now 
engaged in writing the History of Henry IV., and the 
religious feuds of that period. It is creditable to the 
present state of society and manners in Paris to hear of 
the high estimation in which men of real literary merit 
are held. Literature gives a man the first rank in society, 
and wealth is not essential to him. Bookmaking as a trade 
meets with no encouragement. The honor of a seat in 
the National Institute, and a distinguished place in the 
best scientific and literary circles, are the rewards of in- 
tellectual eminence in Paris. Authorship in France seems 
to be a more honorable than gainful profession. The copy- 
right of books is much cheaper than works of the same 
merit would be in England. I was told that the law 
which divides the property of families into equal shares is 
gradually efi^ecting a degree of equality which is not known 
in the other countries of Europe. So far as we could learn, 
this division of property by the law of inheritance does not 
relax industry nor lead to prodigality ; on the contrary, it 
leads to moderation. 

We saw a number of the so-called charitable institutions 
of Paris supported by the State. Many, such as the deaf 
and dumb, and blind, were evidently beneficent and well 
conducted ; but one did fill me with horror, and did more 
to make me hopeless of the future of Paris, if not of France, 
than any thing I heard or saw there. The first we went to 
see was that known by the name of Les Enfans Trouves. 
Nothing could exceed the neatness of the apartments. It 



PARIS AND ITS INSTITUTIONS. 195 

was truly a " whited sepulchre." Each infant was in a 
separate crib, and the curtains were white and clean, but 
there is no describing the effect of the little wailing cries 
of the poor deserted babes ; the low faint sound of distress 
from all sides was most appalling. One of the soeurs de la 
charite was in the apartment ; we involuntarily drew aside 
the curtains of one poor infant, whose low deep moanings 
were peculiarly affecting. The sister of charity lifted it up, 
and said, smiling, " It is dying." I besought her earnestly 
to give it some natural food, that of the breast, for the 
mouth of the child moved in search of it. She said, with 
much sweetness and composure, " It has a sore mouth, and 
would infect the nurse ; it is dying." It was long before 
I could think of any thing but the famished look of that 
miserable infant, and I left the Institution with a firm per- 
suasion that many children are suffered to perish there from 
inanition. I was powerless to do any thing but write a 
letter to Madame De Pastoret, who gave us the order of 
admission. Count Philip Ugohi promised to translate and 
read my letter to her, as^she had requested to have my 
opinion of that and the institution for young delinquents. 
The demoralizing effect of this institution is perhaps more 
to be reprobated than the indilFerence to human life which 
we observe within its walls. That there should be in 
Christian Europe, and in a city famed above all others for 
its civilization and refinement, little less than seven thou- 
sand mothers every year capable of abandoning their infants 
at the moment of their birth, is a melancholy fact. It is 
not to be supposed that many of these mothers could bring 
themselves to put their children to a violent death with 
their own hands. This cruel institution, therefore, furnishes 
them with an apology for licentiousness. They send their 
superfluous offspring to an early grave within the precincts 
of this hospital, or to a life of sorrow and abandonment if 



196 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

they are strong enough to live. We were told by one of 
the managers of this institution that from twenty to thirty 
infants were received every twenty-four hours ; there were 
eighty-seven when we visited the place, all of whom had 
been received within the last three days. Every third day 
these deserted babes are placed in hammocks, swung up 
inside a large caravan, and sent into the country to be 
nursed. Four hundred francs a year is given to the foster- 
parent till they are twelve years old, and then the allow- 
ance from the hospital ceases. We were told that one-third 
die within the third day of their reception there. Many 
of these mothers were supposed — from the dress in which 
the children came — not to be in distressed circumstances, 
but prefer this to the incumbrance and expense of a large 
family. 

\_To Mrs. Thomson. 

" London, May ilh, 1830. 
" I must leave Mary to give you the sequel of our adven- 
tures in Paris ; she alleges I did not enjoy it sufficiently. The 
fact is, it excited me too much. I never felt myself old till I 
went to Paris. I wanted to find people to talk to me about 
the Federation in the Champs de Mars — about the fall of the 
Bastile — the scenes that took place at the Hotel de Ville ; 
but I could find no one that knew or oared about them, and in 
vain we searched through many a shop and book-stall for ' Les 
Jours de la Revolution,' the little book you recommended to 
us. We had great enjoyment, however, in various ways, and 
I shall enjoy it more at Bilton than I did in Paris. You will 
be glad to hear that General de Lafayette entirely approves 
of Fanny Wright's conduct in taking her Negroes to Hayti. 
He gave her a letter of introduction to the President Boyer, of 
whom he has a good opinion ; and he hopes by her energy and 
the influence of her talents she will establish a good under- 
standing between the Government of Hayti and that of the 
United States, so as to facilitate the settlement of the Negroes 



' MILES 'S INCREASED ILLNESS. 197 

in that country. He lamented her connection with the Owens, 
but spoke of her with great respect and interest."] 

Some weeks after our return to Yorkshire, in the sum- 
mer of 1830, Mary went to pay a visit to Mrs. Taylor, in 
Ireland, and in September I set off for Scotland, having 
heard from Mrs. Miles Fletcher that Miles had been strongly 
advised by Dr. Marshall Hall to spend the winter in a 
milder climate, but that he would not consent to leave his 
boys, and that thus the hope of his health benefiting by 
the change recommended could not be accomplished. This 
decided me at once to offer to take charge of the boys in 
their absence. No time was to be lost, as the days were 
shortening, and I at once sent Angus to bring his sister 
Mary from Ireland to meet me in Edinburgh ; and my offer 
being gladly accepted by Miles and his wife, I set off at 
once. 

I had not seen dear Miles from the time we had parted 
in London, and I was greatly shocked at the change in his 
appearance, though he was notuncheerful. He was rejoiced 
to see me, and spoke hopetully of the benefit he expected 
to derive' from going to Jersey. 

On the 1st October, 1830, I accompanied my dear Miles 
to enter his son Henry at the New Academy. He was a 
cheerful little fellow, not quite eight years old ; and I well 
remember his father's glistening eye as he saw him receive 
his ticket of admission and take the place his number gave 
him in the class. Mary soon joined us from Ireland, and 
we entered on our unexpected duties. It was a very 
mournful time for both of us ; but we felt it was all^ we 
could do for one we dearly loved ; and although we declined 
all invitations, we received much kind attention from old 
friends of all degrees, and had the pleasure of becoming 
intimate with Susan Ferrier, the good and agreeable author 
of " Marriage " and " Inheritance," novels of much humor 



198 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

and ability, and greatly admired at the time. Miss Ferrier 
took a most friendly interest in my grandsons for their 
mother's sake, whose intimate friend she had been from her 
early days. 

Three months thus passed. My son's health did not 
improve ; and, besides his desire to be at home, he wished 
to relieve me from the charge I had undertaken ; and this 
was rendered more easy, as, from the change of Ministry, 
the Duke of Argyll had been appointed Keeper of the Great 
Seal for Scotland, and, without solicitation, he appointed 
Miles his Deputy Keeper. This was a very desirable event, 
as sickness had destroyed his prospects at the Bar. He 
wrote me a cheerful letter on reaching London, on his way 
home, and said that " his satisfaction on his appointment 
would be complete when he received my congratulations 
upon it." He and his wife paid a short visit to the dear 
old aunt who always delighted in him, on their way home, 
but he gave us so bad an account of her state that he did 
not urge my remaining many days, but asked me to leave 
Mary with him, which I did, she being at the time not able 
to travel from illness. My spirits were supported by feel- 
ing equal to the work God had apjiointed me to do — to 
watch over the kindest of friends to me and mine ; and, as 
usual, she revived on my return to her, from the comfort of 
knowing I was near her. 

\_To her daughter Mary, in JEdinburgh, 

" Tadcaster, May 7th, 1831. 
" T was indebted to Mrs. Dundas for procuring me a ticket 
for the High Sheriff 's box on the hustings yesterday, for a 
most glorious day at York. Before I set out with Archy I 
had the very great satisfaction to receive the letter you sent 
me from ISIalta ; mine has never appeared yet. Thank you, 
dearest Mary, for the relief your kind attention gave me, 



GENERAL ELECTION AT YORK. 199 

but we have three long weeks to wait before we can hear of 
her safety. We must pray, and trust in unfailing mercy. 
Well, I have had many adventures since I wrote to you — first, 
a call from Mr. Strickland, on his way to canvass the West 
Hiding — he was very agreeable, and full of kindly recollections 
of us in early days at Edinburgh ; then, last Saturday, a 
most friendly visit from Mrs. Dundas ' after her husband's 
election, offering me a seat on the hustings if she could get 
tickets ; then, on Sunday, a long visit again from Mr. Strickland 
on his return from his triumphal progress through the West 
Ridino', with divers amusing anecdotes and incidents that 
occurred on his canvass. He took luncheon here, and left 
me about five o'clock. Then the last fortnight has been full of 
amusing episodes, stirring up a Reform committee in Noodle- 
dum,^ the sub-committee in the blue parlor of aunty's house. 
The full committee held their meetings at Backhouse's Inn. 
They actually raised subscriptions large enough to send such 
of the seventy freeholders from Tadcaster as could not afford 
to pay their own expenses if a poll had been demanded ; but 
Mr. Buncombe, the Tory candidate, happily thought fit to quit 
the field on Thursday, so Ihat the immense tide of human 
existence which rolled past this house from the West Riding 
on Thursday afternoon, all Thursday night and yesterday 
morning, were carried there by the impulse of enthusiastic 
feeling in favor of the Reform BiU ; every one of that 
immense multitude, five or six thousand at least, paying 
their own expenses. Every wheeled carriage in Leeds was put 
in requisition, and the number of carriages of every description 
surpassed belief. Then the operatives on foot lined the road 
and filled the streets of this town with their bands of music 
and their shouts of triumph. On Thursday evening, as they 
were passing, a heavy shower came on. All who had money 
in their pockets took shelter in public-houses. Archy and I 
observed two boys sheltering themselves under the gateway 
opposite my aunt's house, with Reform colors — an orange card 
— in their hats. The rain fell in torrents. We had just 
finished our comfortable tea, and I sent Hannah to invite them 
to tea in the kitchen. They were two young operatives, 
1 Afterwards Countess of Zetland. 2 The family name for Tadcaster. 



200 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

croppers, out of work, but well-dressed lads, who had set oflf 
to walk twenty-three miles without a shilling in their pockets. 
They enjoyed their repast much, and when the rain was over 
proceeded on their way to York. We reached York yesterday, 
soon after nine o'clock. Mrs. Dundas, Mrs. Lane (one of Lord 
Dundas's married daughters), Alexander Speirs of Elderslie, 
and I, proceeded straight to the hustings. The Castle Yard 
presented a noble sight ; not less than thirty thousand people, 
1 was told, all of one mind. You will read the proceedings in 
the Leeds Mercury better than I can give them. Lord Morpeth 
is a most graceful and finished speaker. Sir J. Johnston 
gentlemanly, but rather feeble. Mr. Ramsden sensible and 
earnest, but not fluent. George Strickland manly, eloquent, 
and fearless. He was the most popular with the West Riding 
men. Good speeches were made by the proposers and 
seconders of the nominations, but the most touching of all was 
the anthem of ' God save the King,' sung by that assembled 
multitude uncovered, and with a religious fervency I never 
heard equalled in any place of worship. This was done simul- 
taneously on the motion of Mr. Fawkes of Farnley, who is a 
most eloquent and impassioned speaker. The streets were so 
crowded it was not safe to return after the chairing of the 
members in a carriage, so we all walked from the hustings to 
Parsons' lodgings, where the Dundases are lodging, and then 
took leave of them. What strange doings at the Edinburgh elec- 
tion! You want a safety-valve in Scotland. Oh how tranquil 
are popular elections even under the old system in England in 
comparison of tlie close system in Scotland ! I am in daily 
expectation of a vi^it from Sir Robert Liston, on his way down. 
I see a letter from Angus addressed to him here. God bless 
you, dearest Mary ; I hope you are warmer than we are. We 
had a snow-storm yesterday. I am quite well, spite of all this 
excitement ; indeed, enjoying it greatly, as a Yorkshire free- 
holder ought to do."] 

INIary johu'd me at Tadcaster in June, having left her 
brother and his wife at a beautifully situated house they 
had taken in Fife for a year, within an easy distance of 
Edhiburgh by steam. We remained with aunty, and enjoyed 



DEATH OF MILES A. FLETCHER. 201 

many walks to Oxton and 'Wighill together. In the middle 
of August I was persuaded to pay a visit at Mr. Brooke's of 
Armitage Bridge, while Mary remained at the post of duty. 

I was sitting in the drawing-room there, looking over a 
large volume of Grose's Antiquities, when Catherine 
Laycock was called out of the room ; she returned, looking 
very sorrowful, and said, " Your Mary has come with bad 
news." I said, " Is poor aunty dead ? " Mary, who had 
followed, replied, " No, dear mother, but Miles is worse, 
and wishes to see us." I did not sink, but instantly 
prepared for our journey. It was Saturday, the 20th 
August, 1831. In half an hour we were on our way to 
Edinburgh, posting day and night. We reached Borough 
Bridge about midnight. I was so exliausted with sorrow 
and fatigue that Mary persuaded me to throw myself on a 
bed for an hour or two ; and we both felt strengthened by 
it. About two A. M. we proceeded on our journey. That 
day — Sunday the 21st — at three in the afternoon we 
reached Percy's Cross, on^jthe road between the vale of 
Whittingham and Wooler, that very relic of antiquity which 
at that precise hour the day before we had been looking at 
and talking about while turning over Grose's Antiquities. I 
mention this as a curious coincidence. 

We travelled all Sunday night, and reached Edinburgh 
soon after sunrise on Monday morning. On arriving at 

II Queen Street, Mary rang the bell, which was answered 
by Angus, who had come there from Hillside to await our 
arrival. Our dearest Miles died on Sa*^urday evening, the 
20th August, 1831. Though faint and exhausted, we 
could not rest till we proceeded by the first steamboat to 
Aberdour and Hillside. Charlotte Fletcher was perfectly 
calm ; the relief of tears had not come, and she was 
miserably worn out. Once, only once, I saw the remains 
of my dear, excellent, and beautiful Miles, but so unlike 



202 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

what he had been that I could scarcely have recognized a 
trace of resemblance. The funeral took place on the 
Thursday following. He was laid by his father and 
Grace, and a baby of his own, in the cemetery of the Calton 
Hill. 

In the darkest hour of sorrow some human comfort is 
often sent beyond that of the immediate family circle ; and 
such we felt was the presence of Mary Campbell, an inti- 
mate friend of the poor widow, and also of ours, as her father 
had been one of my husband's earliest Edinburgh friends, 
and I was greatly attached to his eldest daughter, Mary, 
at the time I entered on my Edinburgh life. When Miles 
felt his last hours approaching, he sent for this Sister of 
Charity, " Santa Maria," as we always called her, to be with 
his wife before our arrival ; and she remained with us, and 
was of the greatest benefit to all, by the depth of her 
human sympathy and her divine love. 

Letter on her son Miles' s Death to Mrs. Davy at Malta, 
from E. F. 

"Hillside, August, 1831. 

[After giving an account of our journey from Yorkshire, 
travelling day and night, but arriving too late to see him alive, 
our mother says: — 

"Dearest M. , I could fill volumes with what is at the 
bottom of my heart about our dear, dear Miles, but I cannot 
now. I will send you a little memorial of him when time has 
mellowed my grief. It will then be soothing to me to remember 
him in the freshness and beauty of his youth, but he improved 
in character in real life every year he lived ; sickness and dis- 
appointment in his hopes of worldly prosperity most certainly 
fixed his heart on God. He read his Bible much, and there 
was a glowing light over his wasted features which showed the 
peace within." 



LETTERS ON MILES 'S DEATH. 203 

James Wilson writes to Angus : — 

" I had fondly hoped that his malady, though partaking 
of the nature of a mortal ailment, might have been so far 
subdued or prevented from increasing, as that he might have 
been spared even for years to gladden that circle in which, if 
I may judge from my own feelings, he never appeared without 
spreading joy and comfort. To me during many years in which 
I had but few consolations, his presence was as sunshine to 
the earth, and I cannot help feeling, notwithstanding the bless- 
ings with which I am now surrounded, ' that my heart-strings 
are broken.' 

" When we arrived here at seven in the morning on the 
22d of August we found Charlotte up, and more composed 
than we could possibly have expected ; she continued so all 
that day, and Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, the 
funeral day, she became very ill; her sensations were a light- 
ness of the brain, which she thought indicated inflammation. 

She desired Dr. P from Kirkcaldy to be sent for. I was 

not present when he came, but Mary says she said to him with 
great composure, ' Now, doctor, I believe I am going to lose 
my senses; I think inflammation of the brain is coming on. If 
it is so, I entreat you to tell me honestly, for I have some 
directions to give and arrangements to make.' He assured 
her the sensations she complained of were simply the effect of 
sleeplessness, grief, and fatigue, and that perfect repose would 
restore her. Dr. Christison agreed with this opinion when he 
came, but she was in such a state of exhaustion that both 
her doctors were alarmed about her. When her eyes were 
closed I never saw any living thing so deadly — so pale, 
emaciated, and unearthly. Our anxiety and care of her made 
us in some measure forget our own deep affliction. She is now 
able to be moved to a sofa while her bed is made; she can 
converse a little, and is quite composed. She reads her Bible 
much. She is very sweet in her manners towards Mary and 
me. I must leave M. with her, Charlotte clings to her so 
much." 



204 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

M. F. says in the same letter : — 

" Poor Charlotte is very unselfish in her sorrow, so willing 
to talk of all that is on her mind, and so soothed and gratified 
hy the sympathy and the feeling of Miles's friends. She 
dwells constantly on the parts of his character which were 
indeed most striking: — His ' truth in the inward parts,' his 
extreme delicacy of mind, his entire disinterestedness, and his 
love of promoting the happiness of others, and finding his own 
in so doing. We are very thankful that he had the enjoyment 
of this place, and that the last objects his eyes rested upon 
were such scenes of beauty as can scarcely be surpassed in 
heaven. The last night he was up, he stood at the window 
to look at the moonlight on the sea ; and after he was in bed 
he said to Charlotte, ' I never saw a night that made such an 
impression on me as this.' We have often remarked his simple 
enjoyment in nature, and it seemed to have increased latterly 
in strength. I am now very, very glad I was with him so 
much last winter, although it has increased tenfold the sense 
of his loss personally to myself, yet it also increased in the 
same measure my appreciation of his character and my gratitude 
for his kindness and sympathy in all that concerns us. I felt, 
too, I was of use to him, as Charlotte was obliged to be absent 
for some weeks, owing to Rawdon's state of health, at her 
mother's house. I had not seen so much of dear Miles since 
his marriage, and it was impossible to be with him and watch 
his state of mind with regard to others, and himself, and not 
feel he was ripening for Heaven. His deep love for and 
gratitude to our mother quite satisfied me, as it would have 
done you. 

" Dear Mary Campbell is with us still, and is an unspeakable 
comfort to the house in general. She has so much knowledge 
of human infirmity as never to be surprised at it or impatient 
with it. She is most valuable to the boys just now, and also 
to Angus, and I am so glad our dearest mother has her near; 
they can go back together in the family history farther than you 
or I, and they walk together about these lovely grounds. I am 
almost constantly in Charlotte's room, as Stewart, her maid, 
needs rest during the day-time." 



LETTER TO MISS AIKIN. 205 

To Miss Aikin, from Mrs. Fletcher. 

" 1832. 
" You know me too well to believe that I could either be un- 
mindful of you, or ungrateful for the kind expression of your 
sympathy which I received some weeks after it was written. 
I was then both ill and so sorrowful that I did not wish to 
distress my friends by my mournful communications, of various 
kinds. You knew my dear Miles in the freshness and beauty 
of his youth, and you were one of those who saw through the 
apparent carelessness and gaiety of his character, — saw that 
there was a fund of manly principle and good sense which 
would one day lead to valuable results. You were right. A 
higher and purer spirit never existed, and if he had labored 
more in the acquirement of professional knowledge I should 
have had nothing to regret, but that he was taken away just 
when brighter prospects of professional success were opening 
before him. Latterly, for the last four years, the declining 
state of his' health incapacitated him for continued application. 
He was a most beloved husband and father, son and brother, 
a most trusted and constant friend, a friend of the poor in the 
best sense, by taking trouble for them, and respected by all 
who knew him for the purity and integrity of his life. I have 
much comfort in the reflection that he lived to see better pros- 
pects opening on his country, and that no action of his public 
or private life was unworthy of his father's son."] 

I remained with my aunt all winter : letters from Malta 
and from Mary in Edinburgh were my only pleasures ; but 
my duty at this time was a real pleasure to me, nor would 
I have exchanged my life at Tadcaster then for any other. 

The more I saw of my aunt Mary Hill at this time, the 
more I revered the self-denial she practised, and the activity 
and extent of her benevolence. My visits at the Grange 
and to the poorhouse early in the day, were my only visits. 
I discovered some abuses there, and got them remedied. 

In the spring of 1832 Mary returned to me. Her 



206 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

health was shattered ; but between her severe attacks of 
headache she recovered both her looks and vigor, and we 
went in May to pay a promised visit to our dear friend Mrs. 
Smith of Tent Lodge, Coniston. 

It was at the time the Whigs, who had been striving 
hard for the first Reform Bill, were, by the vacillation of 
*William the Fourth, compelled to resign, and they were 
for some weeks out of office. At this unexpected occur- 
rence our Tory hostess rejoiced exceedingly, and then, 
when Lord Brougham left the Woolsack with his party, I 
offered a visit to my old and revered friend Mrs. Brougham, 
telling Mrs. Smith I was not so much afraid of her making 
an ungenerous use of her party ti'iumph as I was of my own 
temper at her exultation. She replied, '' By all means, my 
dear friend, go to Mrs. Brougham and condole with her, 
but make haste to come back again." 

We stayed a few days with Mrs. Brougham and her 
agreeable daughter, both of whom received us with the 
most frank and hospitable kindness. Newspapers and 
letters from her sons came daily, and on the day we had 
fixed to leave her, news came that the tide had turned. 
The Whigs were again sent for, and the discussions on the 
clauses of the Reform Bill were resumed. We were much 
urged by Mrs. Brougham to remain another day, to see 
her receive a procession of Whigs and Reformers from 
Penrith, who had fixed on that day to come, with bands of 
music and colors flying to hail the triumph of the good 
cause, and to sympathize with her in the share her gifted 
son had taken in the noble struggle. It was a strong 
temptation to both of us, but we felt we ought not to 
yield to our inclination to witness this demonstration 
at Brougham, but returned to our kind Tory lady at 
Coniston, in better spirits than when we left her, on public 
grounds. 



LETTER TO MRS. THOMSON. 207 

\_J'o Mrs. Thomson, from Mrs. Fletcher. 

"Tent Lodge, Coniston, Mmj'iUt, 1832. 
" On our return from Brougham Hall on Saturday evening I 
had the satisfaction to find your kind letter. The very day we 
read in the newspaper that the Whig Ministry had resigned I 
wrote to offer Mrs. Brougham a visit. There was no one within 
my reach that could so fully and entirely enter into the grief 
and indignation I felt, not so much at Lord Grey's resigna- 
tion, as at the monstrous audacity of the Duke of Wellington 
undertaking to form an administration to carry the Bill against 
which he had a few days before so strongly protested. Well, 
Mary and I said to each other, if the country, if the House of 
Commons, submit to this, England is not a country for an 
honest man to live in. Under these impressions we set for- 
ward last Thui-sday to Brougham, but at Keswick we met the 
■welcome news that the Duke could not form an administration. 
The burst of honest and high feeling which prevailed in the 
House of Commons when John Wood brought in the Manches- 
ter petition, signed in three hours by twenty-five thousand 
persons, praying the House to refuse supplies till the Reform 
Bill was passed — when even the honest Tories scouted the idea, 
of the Duke taking charge -crt" the Reform Bill — that night's 
debate and the state of feeling in the country, as expressed 
universally at public meetings all over England and Scotland, 
set our hearts at rest, and we proceeded next day to Brougham, 
not to condole with, but to congratulate the Chancellor's 
mother on the proud position in which her son and his excellent 
compeers stood from the moment of their resignation. That 
■was their point of glory, as Lord Brougham expressed it on 
taking leave of the Chancery Bar, ' To relinquish power at the 
call of public duty is not a misfortune but a glory.' The old 
lady was as happy as the noble-minded mother of so noble- 
minded a son deserves to be. We had heartfelt rejoicings to- 
gether, and much pleasant chat about all our Edinburgh friends 
and about what you would all be thinking and saying. Mrs. 
Brougham pressed us most kindly to pi'olong our visit, but we 
had promised to return here. The recall of the Grey Ministry 
■was not absolutelv secure when we left Brougham, but the 



208 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

people had willed it, and uie felt secure. We found your letter 
and the report of the Edinburgh meeting on our return to our 
good Tory friend. The spirit and intelligence of the Edinburgh 
meeting is delightful. Reform in Scotland, and all the feeling 
connected with it, is, as you may believe, nearer my heart than 
anything else connected with public affairs."] 

In October of this year, 1832, I became very uneasy 
about the state of Mary's health, from Dr. Thomson's re- 
port of it, and. with my aunt's entire approval, I left her 
under the care of a kind friend and her own excellent maid, 
and joined Mary in Edinburgh when she returned there, 
with her sister-in-law, from Fife, where she had been for 
the last month for sea-air and quietness. 

I had the good fortune to travel north with one of the 
most remarkable men of his time — The Honorable Mount- 
Stuart Elphinstone. We had been some minutes in the 
mail before we recogni-zed each other, and then there was 
a most animated and delightful discourse carried on for 
eight hours, during which an infinite variety of subjects 
were discussed. He gave me much information quite new 
to me about India. His acquaintance with men and books 
seemed equally extensive, liberal, and unprejudiced, and 
we parted at Durham with an impression on my mind that 
he was one of the most intelligent men it had ever been 
my good fortune to meet, and, beyond comparison, uniting 
with this the most engaging and prepossessing manners. 
Bishop Heber, who was so well able to judge of the attain- 
ments of other men by the extent of his own, mentions 
Mount-Stuart Elphinstone in his delightful Indian Jour- 
nal as altogether the most accomplished man he had 
ever known. We saw him frequently after this, both 
in Edinburgh and London, and always with renewed 
pleasure. 

We established ourselves in pleasant lodgings in Forres 



VISIT TO EDINBURGH. 



209 



Street, near Moray Place, where Angus joined us for the 

winter. 

We received constant and tender attention from our old 
friends in Edinburgh, especially from all the Thomson fam- 
ily. Mrs. Thomson's loving sympathy much helped to cheer 
Mary's winter, as she was obliged to keep almost entirely 
in the recumbent position for several months. 

It was during that winter, 1832-3, that the hustings 
were erected for the first time at the Cross of Edinburgh 
for the popular election of the members for the city, under 
the new Reform Bill. I often took my three grandsons, 
and explained to them how their grandfather and father 
would have rejoiced to see that day, for the sake of the im- 
provement of their country, and the security of its future 

freedom. 

At length, in December, 1832, came the day of election, 
and we were kindly invited by the Lord Advocate and 
Mrs. Jeffrey to their house in Moray Place, to see the 
members brought home in triuhiph. The citizens of Edin- 
burgh did themselves honof'ln choosing two such repre- 
sentLtives as James Abercromby, the Speaker of the House 
of Commons, and Francis Jeffrey, then Lord Advocate, 
men not less eminent for their talents than for their 
public spirit and courage in supporting the cause of 
civil and religious liberty, both in and out of Parliament. 
T scarcely felt equal to go, leaving Mary alone on that dajr 
in our lodgings. Our kind Mrs. Thomson secretly con- 
sulted her husband, and came with a cheery face early in 
the day to say Dr. Thomson allowed his patient to go with 
me to the chair or sofa oflfered her near the window by 
Mrs. Jeffrey. It was a glorious sight for us to see these 
truly honest men borne home amidst the acclamations of 
tens of thousands of their grateful and emancipated 
countrymen. We stood by them on the balcony of Mr. 



210 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Jeffrey's house while they shortly returned thanks to the 
people. Few events ever excited me more than those 
which took j^lace in Edinburgh at that time. Mary, in 
the true spirit of a reformer's daughter, rose from the sofa 
to which she had been condemned for five months, to wit- 
ness the joyful scene, and she did not in the least suffer from 
it. Nay, from that day she continued to be allowed more 
freedom of action and exercise, and about the middle of 
April was able to return with me to Tadcaster. 

[Lord Cockburn's interesting " Memorials of his Own 
Time" close before this election of his friend tTeffrey, "his 
love for whom was passing the love of woman." He was more 
excited by joy on that day even than we were ; and I well 
remember his way of rushing into the drawing-room, and 
looking round the crowd of Whig ladies and girls who were 
present, and calling out, " Where 's Mrs. Fletcher? she 's the 
woman that I want," and when my mother came from the 
window to meet him, they clasped each other's hands and had 
a good " greet " together; and not many words were said be- 
fore there was a call for " Cockburn " from the crowd without, 
and he went to the balcony to i-espond to the call, and made 
a short speech of deep feeling which was cheered long and 
loudly. — M. R. 

From Thomas Campbell to Mrs. Fletcher. 

"London, May 18, 1833. 

•' I know that your interest in dear, yet glorious, though 
fallen Poland, will be a sufficient recommendation to her most 
illustrious poet, Niemskewitz, without a word from me ; but 
as the venerable patriot and friend of Kosciusko also honors 
Thomas Campbell with his friendship, I cannot help giving 
myself the gratification of writing to you by him. 

" I declare I can scarcely trust my thoughts with the mel- 
ancholy subject of Poland. It has at different periods over- 
agitated me, even to the loss of health ; and yet there 
are some of the Polish patriot exiles the sight and friendship 



LETTER FROM THOMAS CAMPBELL. 211 

of whom are a consolatory balm to my spirits. Among these, 
the most valued are my brother poets Niemskewitz and the 
Prince Czartorysky. It is some happiness to me to think that 
the chosen spirits of Scotland, and amongst thetn yourself, mil 
testify your regard for a sacred cause, and for human worth, 
by attention to my venerable friend. 

" I trust, my dear madam, that this will find you in good 
health. I am this day returning thanks to Providence for fairly 
feeling the return of that greatest of blessings. . . . 

" I shall now resume the life of Mrs. Siddons, and shortly 
begin to print, so as to have it out for certainty in October. I 
am not sorry for the delay. It is no later than yesterday that I 
discovered a probability — almost near a c^tainty — that 
Shakespeare visited friends in the very town (Brecon in Wales) 
where Mrs. Siddons was born, and that he there found in a 
neighboring glen, called ' The Valley of Fairy Puck,' the prin- 
cipal machinery of his ' Midsummer Night's Dream. ' 

" It would give me pleasure to hear from and to see your 
handwriting. I beg my best regards to all your family, and 
remain, after thirty years' friendship, your sincerely attached, 

" Thos. Campbell." 



To Mrs. Davy, Malta. 

" Tadcaster, 3c? May, 1833. 
" We found good aunty shrunk into the least possible 
dimensions, but in a less suffering state than she was when I 
left her last October. Miss Hill is much bent in figure, but 
as much erect in mind as ever, and rejoicing in the effects she 
perceives of the Reform Bill in elevating the condition of the 
lower orders. She thought it was the first step towards the 
millennium ! ! ! What would your Conservatives say of that 
opinion from a woman of eighty-one? They would say she was 
in her dotage; but I never saw her mind more entire, though 
the faculty of memory is somewhat impaired. I have been 
alarmed since I came here with the tone of the public press, — 
the coalition that seems to have taken place between the Con- 
servative and Radical papers ; they vie with each other in foul 
and scurrilous abuse of Ministers. The Conservatives are 



212 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

playing a dangerous game. They are making use of the 
Radicals to turn out the Whigs, not perceiving that by 
strengthening that party (the Radicals) they are destroying all 
those aristocratic associations in the minds of the people by 
means of which they calculate upon their own return to power. 
The fears of our Lord Advocate,^ which his friends in Edinburgh 
imputed to his nervous timidity, had but too much foundation. 
He said the country Had nothing now to fear from the Tory 
party, but very much to dread from popular and physical force, 
and he feared it would be impossible for any honest administra- 
tion to satisfy the people, who had learned from the foolish 
conduct of the House of Peers last year to calculate upon their 
own strength, and to hold all other strength at defiance. He 
feared that spoliation, or, as he called it levelling downward, 
would be the will of the great mass of operatives. This was 
in a conversation I had with him last November at Mr. John 
Cunningham's. I did not then think the people so unreason- 
able, but the speeches of O'Connell, Cobbett, Hume, etc., are 
of so inflammatory a character that I do fear Reform has come 
too late to prevent revolution. I am thankful however that 
it has come. It has organized a national guard in all the ten- 
pound voters, and I still hope that the selfish principle, if no 
better one, will influence the thinking and rational of all parties 
to rally round them."] 

We found dear aunty quite as well as when I had left 
her five months before, and, as usual, delighted to see us 
again ; but Dr. Thomson told me that Mai-y's nerves had 
been so much affected by the complaint in her sj^ine, and 
the reducing system necessary to subdue the inflammation, 
that she ought not to remain long in so melancholy a scene 
as my aunt's sick-room, — that good air was essential to 
her recovery. So in June our friend Mr. Harden took 
lodgings for us, for three months, at Thorney How, near 
Grasmere, to be near our dear friends the Arnolds, who 
were living that summer at Allen Bank, while their future 
home at Fox How was building. Our lodgings were in a 
1 Fraocis Jeffrey. 



T HORNBY HOW. 213 

simple farm-house, at that time furnished in the most 
homely manner ; we were the first ladies who had in- 
habited it, as it was before Kasedale was much known, 
except to such lovers of beauty as Wordsworth and De 
Quincey. We were greatly pleased with our quarters, and 
saw several of our friends there, for we never attached 
much importance to the size or appearance of our dwelling, 
so that it allowed us to exercise the pleasures of hospitality 
and enabled us to give a kindly welcome to our friends. 
Dear Mrs. Taylor and her little Mary joined us there, and 
added much to our happiness. Henry Fletcher paid us a 
long visit, and we had frequent intercourse with Words- 
worth and his excellent wife, with Mr. Hamilton, who then 
lived at Rothay Cottage, at Rydal, and with our old friends 
the Hardens at Brathay Hall, and above all, the Arnolds, 
who were our great attraction to Grasmere and Easedale. 
We did not then foresee that so many happy years were in 
store for us at the little mountain farm called Lancrigg, 
which adjoined Thorney How, and which, from its sunny 
aspect and birch and oak copses, under Helm Craig, had 
for many years of Wordsworth's Grasmere life been a 
favorite summer haunt of the simple household of the 
bard, who then lived at Town End. Wordsworth and 
Dr. Arnold also were great admirers of the views from the 
Rock at Thorney How, and the poet, if depressed on first 
coming in, was often revived by a visit to the Rock, which 
his wife kindly suggested when she saw this was the case. 
It was that summer that the illness of his sister began; 
and those who know what they had always been to each 
other can well understand what it must have been to him 
to see that soul of life and light obscured. He was also 
cast down at this time by the state of public affairs, of 
which he took a very dark view ; and what was the opening 
of new hope for the evUs of the country to Dr. Arnold, and 



214 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to us, was, to Wordsworth and his family, the end of Eng- 
land's glory. I have now lived to feel that we were both 
more in the right than our great poet at Rydal, and also the 
excellent and desponding Southey at Keswick, with whom 
I renewed an acquaintance formed long before, when we 
thought more alike on public matters. 

[^To Mrs. Davy, Malta. 

" Thoeney How, IWh Jufy, 1833. 

" On Wednesday afternoon we set forth to Keswick. Miss 

Southey followed us to the side of the lake with an invitation 

to drink tea with them. We all went. Southey is sadly 

altered since I saw him last; his hair was quite white, but 

that was the least part of the alteration I never 

saw any one whose mind was in so morbid a state as that of 
this excellent poet and amiable man on the subject of the 
present political aspect of affairs in England. He is utterly 
desponding. He believes the downfall of the Church and the 
subversion of all law and government is at hand; for in spite 
of all our endeavors to steer clear of politics, he slid uncon- 
sciously into the subject, and proclaimed his belief that the 
ruin of all- that was sacred and venerable was impending. His 
state of mind presents a striking and curious contrast to General 
De Lafayette, in a letter I had from him, dated La Grange, 
July 16th, 1833. I think I told you that last winter I sent 
him a curious little book written by a Mr. Leonard, surgeon of 
a vessel employed by England on the coast of Africa for the 
prevention of the slave-trade. The ship or frigate was com- 
manded by Captain Ramsay, who was in Edinburgh last winter, 
and he told Lady Grey that ' it was true to the very letter. ' 
Mr. r.eonard gives a most fearful picture of the enormities 
practised by the slave-ships to Spain, Portugal, and Brazil, 
under the ti-icolor flag of France, because they had not sub- 
mitted to be searched by English vessels. On receiving this 
book the General put the question to the Minister of Marine, 
why France suffered such abominable cruelties to be perpetrated 
under her flag? The JNlinister of Marine assured him that 



LETTER TO MRS. DAVY. 215 

within the last six months a treaty had been signed between 
France and England in which the right of search was recipro- 
cally agreed to ; and De Lafayette expresses the earnest hope 
that the example set by England in slave emancipation will 
ere long be followed by the United States and by all civilized 
nations? Miss Garnett says the General is rejoicing in the 
capture of the Miguelite fleet (his grandson had been for 
eighteen months in Don Pedro's army, a volunteer in the 
liberal cause of Portugal), and that he is now reposing after 
the fatigues of a long session of the Chamber of Deputies amid 
his family at La Grange." 

" Tadcaster, October 23, 1833. 
"Three days after we arrived here, Mary, Catherine Lay- 
cock, and I went to attend a county meeting at York, held to 
consider of some lasting tribute of respect for the memory of 
Mr. Wilberforce. The Archbishop presided, and opened the 
meeting in an elegamt and short eulogium on the character of 
Wilberforce, especially his sincerely religious character, which 
manifested itself not in sectarian zeal or intolerant bigotry, 
but by soundness of principle^and practical Christianity. He 
was followed by Lord Fitzwilham, who declared he considered 
it one of the greatest blessings of his life to have been associated 
with Mr. Wilberforce in the representation of the county when 
he arrived at manhood, for that no man could live in habits of 
intimacy with him without being the better for it. People, 
his Lordship said, supposed that because Mr. Wilberforce was 
eminently pious he would be morose and severe towards others. 
The very contrary was the case ; and were he asked who was 
the happiest and most cheerful man he had ever known, he 
would say Mr. Wilberforce. Lord Morpeth followed in a very 
eloquent speech, on the part Wilberforce had taken in the slave- 
trade, and on the happiness he expressed on his death-bed for 
having lived to see that great measure accomplished. He 
concluded this touching observation with these words, very 
emphatically uttered: — ' Let me die the death of the righteous, 
and let my last end be like his.' Then spoke the Lord Chan- 
cellor. He had come all the way from Brougham to attend 
the meeting. He made a strong appeal to Mr. Wilberforce 's 



216 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

native county, which he had so ably represented in six successive 
ParUaments, to erect a suitable tribute to the me.'nory of that 
great and good man, not merely an inscription in brass or 
marble, but some institution which should have the instruction 
of the ignorant or the relief of the afflicted for its object, — 
some such monument to his name as Wilberforce himself would 
have chosen. 'It is true,' he said, 'we have not the evil of 
slavery in this country, but we have the monstrous evil of 
ignorance to a frightful extent, and ignorance is the fruitful 
parent of discord, intolerance, and vice.' It was one of the 
most interesting public meetings I ever attended. It was in 
the Music Hall at York, and the place was crowded up to the 
very door. Lord B. looked in good health. His speech was 
earnest, grave, and impressive. He seemed deeply impressed 
with the evils arising from the ignorance of the people; indeed, 
from Sir VV. Hamilton's article in the July number of the 
Edinburgh Review, on education in Germany, it would appear 
that France and England are the worst educated nations in 
Europe."] 

"We returned to Tadcaster in September, and found our 
poor sufferer in much the same state ; but so kind and 
touching was her reception of us, that I made a resolve 
then that nothing short of the most imperious duty, such 
as that which the care of Mary's health required, should 
tempt me to leave her again. Thank God, it was not neces- 
sary to do so, and we remained with her to the last. An 
increase of weakness and weariness came on, on the 24th 
of December, when I was sitting beside her, and she died 
on the morning of the 26th, 1833. I was standing by 
her bedside ; her eyes were closed, and I said, " Dear aunt, 
I am beside you ; do you know ' your Bessy ' ? " She did 
not speak, but she pressed my hand, gave one short breath, 
and all was over. Thus passed away one of the purest 
spirits and kindest-hearted beings tliat ever lived. She 
had not a particle of selfishness in her nature, had great 
tenderness of heart, and strict integrity of life ; her temper 



DEATH OF AUNT DAWSON. 217 

was excellent. She was the most dutiM of daughters, 
the kindest of sisters, the warnaest and most constant of 
friends, and towards me personally, from the time I was 
six days old, when I lost my mother, she acted, with 
uniform affection, a mother's part. It was consoling to me 
to think that, after my marriage, the time she spent with 
us in Edinburgh was perhaps the most cheerful and ani- 
mated of her life. She extended her affection towards all 
my children, and Mr. Fletcher always treated her with the 
most grateful love and respect. My daughters took by 
turns the office of cheering her old age; and though the 
sacrifice they made in leaving a home they dearly loved, 
and the attractions of Edinburgh society, was great, they 
never complained; they felt they were paying the large 
debt of gratitude their mother owed her, and the four last 
years of her life were cheered by my remaining with her 
whenever my duty to my children did not make a temporary 
absence indispensable. She was the kindest of neighbors ; 
there was no gossip at her table; people who met nowhere 
else met there, and seemed to forget their small grievances 
towards each other in her presence, and it was truly 
observed by her nephew, Mr. Dawson of Wighill, on the 
day of her funeral, " that he never heard her speak ill of 
anybody." Her remains were laid in the north aisle of 
Wighill Church, by the side of those of her brother 
William. She was buried on the 31st of December, 1833. 

Early in February, 1834, following dear aunty's death, 
Mary and I set off for London, in the hope of meeting Dr. 
and Mrs. Davy there in April. 

We gave up the house at Tadcaster, and made our one- 
horse carriage our movable home for some months, not 
wishino- to fix on a new residence until the return of our 
Malta friends. 

I had a strong desire to visit the last resting-place of 

10 



218 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

my dear friend Mrs. Brudenell, and to close the chapter of 
my early life by erecting a tablet to her memory in the 
parish church of Hougham, where she was interred near 
her children. 

We paid a little visit to Mr. and Mrs. Penrose on our 
way. She was then ill of the malady which ended her 
sweet, intelligent, simple life. I remember her telling me 
it was worth while being ill to be so kindly nursed as she 
was by her husband. In the very small parsonage of 
Bracebridge this accomplished pair enjoyed the pleasures 
of refined and literary tastes and pursuits at home, although 
much cut off from congenial society. 

Mrs. Penrose lent us the " Life of Crabbe," by his son 
George, then newly published, and we read it with great 
delight at Coleby, where we went next to pay a visit to 
the Miss Penroses, the amiable sisters of our dear Mrs. 
Arnold. On our way from their house to Grantham, we 
went through most singular by-ways and sandy lanes to 
find out the grave of my kind old friend Mrs. Brudenell. 
It was in. the chancel of Hougham Church, where her 
unworthy husband had been rector. She was buried 
between her two boys, who died very young. It was 
more than sixty years since she had lived in Hougham 
Rectory, and I could not find a single villager living who 
remembered her. At Grantham, which we reached that 
evening, I ordered a marble tablet to be put up in 
Hougham Church to her memory. Hers were virtues 
that deserve to be commemorated. She had a generous 
heart and a deep sense of gratitude for benefits disinter- 
estedly conferred upon her. This visit to her last resting- 
place was to me full of tender and melancholy recollections. 
She had gone to Hougham on her marriage, full of 
generous affection, hope, and confidence ; she was requited 
by neglect and heartless cruelty ; and there, after a life 



VISIT TO LONDON. 219 

of much disquietude, she was laid at rest. We proceeded, 
by short journeys, suited to our mode of travelling, to 
London, which we reached on the 25th of March, and 
established ourselves in the lodgings which had been taken 
for us in Baker Street, Regent's Park, where we remained 
a month, and where we had the disappointment to learn 
that Dr. Davy had been obliged to remain at Malta for 
another year. 

The month we spent in London was full of interest. 
Many of our dear Scotch friends were there and in office. 
Sir John A. Murray was then Lord Advocate, and we 
frequently niet people of note at his house. On hearing 
from Sir John Murray that I was in London, Lord 
Brougham expressed a desire to take me to the Temple 
Church the following Sunday, and said he would call 
for us at the right time, with his daughter, as he wished 
to introduce her "to his early friend Mrs. Fletcher." 
This he did; and we made, the best use of the drive in 
listening to his interesting conversation. The Lord 
Chancellor paid us much^ friendly attention, and proposed 
that we should go the following day to the House of Lords, 
where we might hear him speak on his favorite subject — 
the education of the working classes, which he did admirably. 
Another evening we heard him speak on the admission of 
Dissenters to Oxford and Cambridge without subscribing 
the Thirty-nine Articles. He was opposed by the fluent 
Bishop of Exeter (Phillpotts). Miss Brougham was of our 
party, to hear her father speak for the first time. It was 
interesting to watch her interest in what he said. She sat 
next me, her half-sister. Miss Spalding, on the other side. 
The young girl often said, " Oh, papa is too angry. Why 
is he so angry?" It was quite true; the excessive 
vehemence of the manner rather detracted from than added 
to the force of the matter. 



220 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

We saw and heard at the same time the great Duke, 
also Lords Gi'ey and HoUand, but heard no speaking 
either among Lords or Commons comparable to Lord 
Brougham's. 

I saw a good deal at this time of my old Edinburgh 
early friend, John Allen, of Holland House notoriety, who 
had continued to correspond with my husband, and he 
rejDeated on this occasion of our meeting in London that 
he always traced to his conversations as a youth with Mr. 
Fletcher the opinions he had early formed and retained of 
constitutional liberty. 

We saw a great deal of the dear Dr. Boott and his 
friendly happy circle in Gower Street ; had some pleasant 
meetings and talks with Thomas Campbell and Allan 
Cunningham, and spent a delightful evening at Captain 
Gowan's with Mount-Stuart Elphinstone, certainly the most 
agreeable of men. 

We were not sorry after some weeks of excitement to 
set oif in our chaise-and-one for North Devon, wiiere we 
had promised to pay a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Buckle, near 
Ilfracombe, and Mrs. Martin, who shared their home 
then at Watermouth Castle, a large modern Castle beauti- 
fully situated near the Bristol Channel. From this 
agreeable resting-place we made excursions to Clovelly, 
a place of wonderful charm and oddity. It is built on a 
steep cliff. The one street rising from the bay forms a 
steep stair cut in the rocks, which are of most varied form 
and coloring, and beautifully clothed with rich vegeta- 
tion as you advance up the stair street to the little village 
inn. 

From Watermouth we went for a week to Lynmouth, 
the most perfectly beautiful place, we thought, we had ever 
seen ; so much did we talk about it that we began to think 
our friends did not believe in such a place, and we agreed 



VISIT TO OXTON. 221 

to abstain from its praises, except to each other, to avoid 
being considered " bores." 

We travelled north, stopping at Cheltenham to rest and 
see our old friend Lady Williamson of Whitburn, and 
after that 1 went to meet Mrs. Taylor at Oxton, at the 
cottage I had furnished for Angus there, and Mary went 
along with Catherine Laycock to prepare a temporary home 
which had been secured for us near Hawkshead for a year 
by Mr. Harden, who with his family then lived also in 
that locality'. This house, called Keen Gi'ound, was by 
no means commodious or comfortable, but it was near the 
quaint little town of Hawkshead, endeared to me by many 
recollections of the first summer we spent in the lake 
district at Belmont. It was within an easy distance of my 
dear old friend Mrs. Smith, who, though now infirm in 
health, retained her warm aifections and grace of manner. 
She made us acquainted with her favorite neighbors, the 
Miss Beevers, who lived, and still live, near the village of 
Coniston, and have continued the fast friends of our 
family from that time. They are the best of neighbors 
and most faithful of friends to all who come near them, 
rich or poor, old or young. 

We passed the winter of 1834-5 at Keen Ground, and 
rejoiced in the return of the dear Arnolds to Fox How 
that winter, when we paid them a week's delightful visit 
about Christmas. We always found ourselves the better, 
as well as happier, for associating with them, there was so 
much elevation of purpose in all they thought and did; 
and then the home life at Rydal Mount was a great 
attraction to us, as well as the kindness we always received 
there. 

In the May following (the 25th of May, 1835) we had 
the great happiness of meeting our dear Margaret and her 
three eldest children at Kendal, and of bringing them back 



222 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

with us to Keen Gi'ound. It is only those who have been 
separated from a beloved child for five years without any 
other intercourse but such as letters supply, who can know 
the happiness of a personal reunion. The heat of Malta 
had told on her constitution and looks, but she had the 
same bright animated expression of countenance, and all 
the tenderness of a mother had been added to the treasures 
of her heart's affections. Mrs. Taylor and her little Mary 
and my son Angus joined the family party. It was as 
happy a summer as the reunion of affectionate friends 
could make it, and so unwilling were Mary and I to lose 
sight again of Margaret and her family that when they left 
us in September we authorized Dr. Davy to take a cottage 
for us within an hour's drive of Fort Pitt, where Dr. Davy 
had been appointed the chief medical officer. We followed 
them in October, Mary taking Rugby on her way to Chatham, 
and I going to spend a month in the cottage at Oxton 
formerly occupied by my aunt, Mrs. Fretwell, and where 
I had established my aunt Dawson's faithful maid Hannah 
as housekeeper for Angus, so that he might always have a 
comfortable home to go to. She had married after her 
old mistress's death a young Methodist farmer, and the 
only sounds ever heard from their comfortable kitchen were 
hymns sung by this good couple at their evening devotions. 
It is strange that the month I spent at this time in my 
native village did not strengthen in the least the reminis- 
cences of my childhood and youth. I had lived so intensely 
during the fifty years I had left that now almost ruinous 
house where I was born, and had left at eighteen, that it 
was more identified with my imagination as what it then 
was, cheerful and neat, with its trim garden in front, gay 
with flowers, and its well-trained fruit-trees on the walls, 
and its abundant orchard behind, than now in its forlorn, 
almost uninhabitable, state. 



SETTLING AT DARLAND. 223 

Mrs. Brudenell's cottage, where some of the gayest hours 
of my childhood were spent, was now inhabited by two 
peasants' families, hard-worked men. " Can this (I often 
said to myself) really be the place where the joyous years 
of my youth were spent ? surely a blight has passed over 
it, so that they who knew and loved it once shall ' know 
it no more ! ' " It Avas mournful for me to feel that I 
was the last survivor of that once cheerful village. All 
its former inhabitants were gone, and they were replaced 
by a depressed, uncheerful-looking set of laborers, with 
slovenly wives and ragged children. 

After spending our Christmas of 1835 at Fort Pitt, we 
entered upon our cottage home at Darland, which Mary 
and our Yorkshire maid had prepared for my reception. 
It was a beautifully planted and arranged little domain, an 
oasis in the desert ; for nothing could be more destitute of 
beauty than the chalky hills all round the wooded enclosure 
where Darland was situated. , 

In compliment to the Davys, we had several visitors, but 
only made two friends — Di-. and Mrs. Richardson. He 
was the Arctic traveller, and then held a staif appointment 
at Melville Hospital at Chatham. She was a niece of Sir 
John Franklin, a large-hearted, lively, and most interesting 
woman. We got intimate at once ; and as her health was 
very delicate, .she used to come often in summer, with her 
baby Josephine, to us, for change of air, and he walked 
out in the evening after the labors of the day were 
over. Mary and 1 used to say that Dr. Richardson's 
smile of recognition, when we drove through the ghastly 
streets of Chatham, was the only redeeming point in 
that dreary drive we took so often on our way to Fort 
Pitt. 

On Saturday evening, the 18th of March, 1837, Mary 
and I were sitting in our easy chairs at Darland, as far 



224 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" into the fire " as the Scotch folk beg their friends to do, 
talking of some episodes of our past lives, and expecting a 
parcel of books from Chatham. The parcel came just at 
the right time, and contained the first volume of Lockhart's 
Life of our great townsman, Walter Scott. I believe it 
would be necessary to have lived, as we had done for the 
last year and a half, in cold and chalky Kent, to enjoy, as 
we did that night, the devouring of the volume, — the 
names of all so familiar to us, and the persons of most, as 
we used daily to meet them in the streets or the drawing- 
rooms of our beloved Edinburgh. To us this volume had 
all the interest of an old chronicle, so completely is our 
present life changed in its daily animation and interest. 
No doubt English readers will enjoy it, or think they do, 
but a dash of Scotch is necessary thoroughly to enjoy its 
charm. 

[To Mrs. Rathhone, Green Banlc, Liverpool. 

" We have- lately been reading the 'Life of Walter Scott' 
with deep interest ; for though in matters of public feeling 
there was a great gulf between us, we always admired his 
genius, and the sweetness and kindness of his nature. The 
first sixty pages written by himself are quite refreshing, and 
Mr. Lockhart has very ably and skilfully filled up the outline. 
Never has a character formed by circumstances been more 
strikingly exemplified. He would probably have been an 
extraordinary man under any circumstances ; but do we not 
owe his varied imagination to his early life at Sandy Knowe, 
and his listening there to the ballads and fairy lore of the old 
Tweedside Shepherds? 

" You cannot conceive what a delight it was to Mary as well 
as to me to read what is already published of these memoirs, 
in this arid land of chalky hills and official understandings. 
After lending the book to the Davys and Richardsons, no one 
else among our acquaintances here cared to have it, having no 
associations with either books or ballads."] 



SWISS TOUR AND LA HARPE. 



225 



On the 1st of June, 1836, we set ofF from Kent, accom- 
panied by Angus, on a little tour to Switzerland. Having 
kept a journal of our tour, I need not repeat the impres- 
sion it made on us here. Late as it was in life for me to 
set out on a Swiss tour (I was then sixty-six), I enjoyed it 
greatly, and so did my companions. It realized, and more 
than realized, all I had conceived of the grand and beauti- 
ful in nature. We saw no form of society that seemed 
degraded by poverty or despotism, except that of Savoy, 
under the dominion of the King of Sardinia. 

[The following letter, returned to me, is worth inserting here, 
relating to an interview which interested us all much with 
General La Harpe :] 

To Mrs. Boott. 

"Chatham, August, 1836. 
"I know it will give you and Dr. Boott pleasure to hear 
that we have got safely home after a most delightful excursion 
of two months, during which^we traversed fully two thousand 
miles by land and water. By far the most interesting part of 
our tour was the month we passed in Switzerland, and we 
owed to Dr. Boott the highest gratification we could have had 
there, in an hour's animated conversation with his venerable 
and interesting friend. General La Harpe. We took the 
steamboat from Vevay to Lausanne, and we found the excel- 
lent old man in his dressing-gown in his library, as serene and 
cheerful as if the world without had neither evil nor sorrow in 
it. As Dr. Boott's friends he received us not only with courtesy 
but kindness, and he evidently delighted to dwell on his per- 
sonal obligations to the friendship of Dr. Boott and on the interest 
he took in him and you and all your children. We partook of a 
collation of fruit, cakes, and wine. He regretted his wife was 
from home. Every word he uttered impressed us with the live- 
hest respect and affection for him. When he uncovered a bust 
of the Emperor Alexander to show it to us, his voice faltered 
as he spoke of his many gracious and noble qualities, and he 
affirmed confidently that, had he lived, it was his full purpose 

10* o 



226 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to give to Poland as free a constitution as she was capable of 
enjoying or making a right use of. While Mary and I were con- 
versing, or rather listening to him, Angus asked his permission to 
take the little sketch which accompanies this. It does not do 
him justice, but it has a considerable resemblance, and Angus has 
great. pleasure in sending it to Dr. Boott. It happened to be the 
week of the Tiiage at Lausanne, when the best marksmen in 
Switzerland meet annually in honor of William Tell and shoot at 
a mark. We saw the sharpshooters of the Pays de Vaud arrive, 
about five hundred marksmen: every canton sends its quota. It 
is a voluntary service, but may be considered as the training of 
an excellent militia for Helvetia. We were enchanted with the 
grandeur and beauty of the valleys of Lauterbrunnen and Grin- 
delwald, and regretted that neither our travelling purse nor the 
time we could spare admitted of our remaining another month 
in these Alpine valleys. We had a magnificent first sight of 
Mont Blanc as we left Lausanne, on the clear bright evening of 
the 2nth of June. The setting sun threw its last rays on that 
majestic mountain, and its summit was unclouded, so that at 
the distance of sixty miles we distinctly saw its form reflected 
on the surface of the Lake of Geneva. Lord Byron mentions 
this fact in a note to one of his cantos of ' Childe Harold,' 
but I own that I thought it was a poetical license till I saw 
it with my own eyes. 

" You will be glad, dear kind friends, to hear that Mary has 
returned from her travels more robust in health than she has 
been for six years. This is a great blessing, delightfully earned 
by exertions accompanied with an enjoyment we neither of us 
can ever forget. Angiis enjoyed it too very highly, and the old 
woman not less than any of the party. God bless you, dear 
friends." 

We returned to Darland from our tour the last day of 
July, 1836, and found Mrs. Taylor, her son, and little 
daughter Mary there. In the autumn of that year we 
made some pleasant excursions to the more picturesque 
parts of Kent, and to places full of historical interest and 
associations, — Penshurst, Knole, and Seven Oaks. I was 



WORDSWORTH'S VISIT. 227 

disappointed not to find any monumental record of Algernon 
Sydney in the beautiful churchyard of Penshurst, but his 
epitaph is written in imperishable language in the annals 
of his country. Our summer and autumn days were also 
diversified by many family and friendly meetings in the 
beautiful grounds and forests of Lord Darnley's jDlace, near 
Chatham. 

"We passed the winter of 1836-7 very quietly; bvit 
found our habitation so cold in the severe winters of Kent 
that we decided not to spend another winter there, but to 
return to the neighborhood of Edinburgh, where we had 
still many interests and attractions which could never pass 
away. 

[From M. F.'s Note-hooh 

We had a most agreeable surprise on the 19th of August, 
1837. Mrs. Smith, of the dockyard, appeared at Darland 
with Wordsworth and Dora. We did not even know the poet 
had returned from his Italianr'tour. He looks somewhat thin- 
ner and paler than when we left Lakeland, and, as he him- 
self expresses it, 'is too home-sick to be comfortable,' but he 
admired the arrangements of our little garden, and entei'ed, 
with his usual indulgence for Nature, into the merits of our 
one large elm-tree. He confesses himself to have been too old 
for a first visit to Italy, and that his visit with Crabb 
Robinson was too hurried for enjoyment ; that at Rome he 
had not time to get over his disappointment at the old and 
new being jumbled together ; and he thought the effect of the 
Colosseum was lessened by the Popish ornaments being ob- 
truded into it. He mentioned the beauty of the flowers- and 
ferns that grew on its walls as its best attractions. He said he 
knew too little to make Rome so enjoyable as it might have 
been. He made the discovery, also, that he had no real taste 
for sculpture, as he fell asleep before the Venus de Medici at 
Florence. He was more impressed by the Apollo, because 
there is mind there, but without mind he cannot be much 
interested in mere form, torsos and other forms, which he 



228 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

allows may be very interesting to students of Art. He spoke 
with most interest of the ruin at Nismes, and said he saw 
nothing in Italy equal to the combined effect of the situation 
and edifice of the Pont du Gard at Nismes. Of the maritime 
Alps route also, and of the Mediterranean generally, he spoke 
with much delight. In Vaucluse he had been in no degree 
disappointed ; the color of the stream and the beauty of the 
flowers delighted him much. He deplores the want of fine 
timber in Italy, and the entire absence of gentlemen's counti-y 
houses and parks throughout the country of France. These 
observations chiefly took place on the Sunday evening which 
he spent with us. He remarked that he thought the French 
peasant improved in a mere animal point of view ; that he had 
formerly been much struck with the extreme feebleness of 
frame among the French, but this was not the case now. He 
mentioned a tree which he had reposed under forty-eight years 
ago near Liege as one of great size and beauty, and while on 
this subject he branched oif with interest on the comparative 
merits of trees. He admires the cypress of the south as a 
beautiful spiral accompaniment to a landscape, but he holds 
the yew higher as a ' fine creature.' His conversation did not 
become truly Wordsworthian, however, till he entered on the 
" Life of Scott," three volumes of which he had read. There 
was so much feeling, wisdom, and elevation in all he said on 
this subject, that, in his own words, we could truly say after 
he left us, 

" So did he speak. 

The words he uttered shall not pass away. 
For they sank into me." 

And yet to attempt to note them down seems hopeless. He 
said that it gave him pain to discover what sufferings Scott had 
gone through from his connection with printers, and the 
unworthy shifts he had recourse to, to get rid of his quires of 
unsold writings. "It is cruel so to expose a great man's 
weaknesses." " Scott's sentiments (he said) sometimes shock 
me; and when I think of his free, frank manner, of what an 
open creature he was, and then find that he was involved in all 
this load of concealment and evasion, it gives me great pain, — 
it must do so to all his friends. The day before we parted he 



WORDSWORTH'S CONVERSATION. 229 

spoke to me much of his portion of happiness in life, which he 
considered great ; but it appeared to me at the time that he 
did not truly estimate his position as a man of genius. He 
appeared to think that the condition of an official under 
Govei'nment, or that of a country gentleman, was a higher one 
than that of a man of genius." This, Wordsworth said, was 
the more extraordinary from Scott having been born in the 
rank of a gentleman, and, therefore, he ought more truly to 
have estimated the real state of the case. Dr. Johnson had 
powerfully stated the truth on this subject, and Scott would 
have been a wiser and a happier man had he rested on his 
genius rather than on his accumulating acres and living beyond 
his means. Wordsworth then launched forth on the startling 
opinion pronounced by Scott on Johnson's Poem " On the 
Vanity of Human Wishes," being the finest poem in the 
language. He repeated two or three lines, and dissected them 
in the way he used to do some of Lord Byron's.] 

In the spring of 1837 Mary and I spent a few weeks in 
London, and met with several interesting people. The 
first visit we paid was aj;-the house of Mr. and Mrs. 
William Gray, in Great George Street, Westminster. I 
there met my dear school companion of other days, who 
was the mother of Mrs. Gray and the youngest daughter 
of Mr. Forster of Bolton. She was then the widow of 
General Ker, one of the claimants of the Roxburgh Duke- 
dom and estates. The charm of her character and manners 
combined would have graced the high position which the 
Scottish Courts of Law gave to her husband, but which the 
House of Lords reversed after a ruinous lawsuit of many 
years. We renewed our youth together on this pleasant 
meeting among her grandchildren, and the loss of what the 
world most regards had in no degree lessened the sweetness 
of her spirit or the gaiety of her " innocent mirth." She 
returned with us to Kent at the end of our London visit. 

It was during this visit at Mr. Gray's that I first saw 



230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Giuseppe Mazzini. I can truly say that his character, and 
the cause to which he devoted his blighted youth and noble 
genius, gave, from the time I first formed his friendshijj, a 
new and increasing interest to my declining years. 

A letter was brought to me one forenoon, some time in 
April, from Count Philip Ugoni, the friend of Madame 
De Bossi, who had been so useful to us in Paris, introduc- 
ing to my special regard a young Italian exile who at that 
time was a friendless stranger in London. I was in Mary's 
room at the time, who was ill of influenza, but hastened 
down stairs to receive the exile. I found in the drawing- 
room a young, slim, dark Italian gentleman of very pre- 
possessing appearance. He could not then speak English, 
and I very imiaerfect French ; but it was impossible not to 
be ■ favorably impressed at once by his truth and his 
sadness. He told me he was an exile, and without 
endeavoring to excite my compassion, or dwelling at all 
on his wrongs or his circumstances, by relating any 
particulars of his past life, he said his present object was 
to obtain admission to some public library, that he might 
give himself to literary work. He looked so profoundly 
unhappy, and spoke so despondingly of the condition of 
his country, and of the genius of Chatterton with such high 
admiration, that I foolishly took it into my head, after he 
had left me, that he meditated suicide, and, under that 
impression, took the privilege of age and experience to 
write to him (when I sent him a letter that I thought 
would be useful for his present pursuits in London) a 
friendly exhortation against the weakness, as well as 
wickedness, of yielding to despair, while youth and talents 
and moral strength, which I felt he possessed, ought alone, 
independently of higher motives, to enable him to meet 
with fortitude his present adversity. The answer which I 
received to this letter convinced me how much I had mis- 



FIRST nfPEESSIONS OF G. MAZZINI. 231 

taken his meaning, and formed the basis of our future 
friendship. It interested me much more than querulous 
complaints ; and although we did not meet more than once 
again at this time, I was able to be of some use to his 
accomplished and excellent friend Ruffini, on our return to 
Edinburgh the following winter, and on our next visit to 
London we saw Mazzini frequently. We heard from RufSni 
that besides the literary and patriotic work he engaged in, 
he devoted himself in the evening hours to the instruction 
of fifty or sixty Italian boys, who were traversing the streets 
of London all day, selling white mice, playing the hand- 
organ, or carrying plaster casts about for sale. These poor 
boys were sold for a certain number of years by their 
worthless parents to people as worthless, who employed 
without instructing them, and they were growing up both 
profligate and ignorant. Mazzini could not bear to see his 
countrymen thus degraded, not so much by poverty as by 
vice, and he devoted two hours every evening to teaching 
them to read and write, ,and imbuing them with some 
knowledge of their country's history, and what it ought to 
be in future. All this I heard from Ruffini, as well as that 
he had become known to several cultivated people in 
London ; but no inducements of pleasure or advantage 
could tempt him to quit his little Italian school for a single 
evening. Thus he became added to my list of heroes, and 
I insert his first letter to me in this part of my family 
history, that my great-grandchildren may learn from it the 
reason of my interest in the prophet of the future unity of 
Italy, Giuseppe Mazzini. 

Mazzini' s Jirst letter in answer to mine. 

" April, 1837. 
"Madame, — You doubtless suppose that the frankness of 
your language displeased me or gave me some pain. Far from 



232 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

it ; I am grateful to you for it, as a mark of confidence and 
esteem. Perhaps I explained myself ill, perhaps also some of 
my expressions would require ray life as a commentary to 
explain them ; but I desire nmch, madame, to rectify the im- 
pression which I have involuntarily given you. I am naturally 
triste ; I am rendered more so by my position, by what I have 
suffered — not so much by what I have personally suffered, as 
by what I have seen those I love and who love me suffer, — by 
the thousand causes which make exile bitter and hfe sterile in 
these days to us. I am, however, neither abased nor discour- 
aged ; I only compared myself to your Chatterton 'mfierte, not in 
despondency. I believe, historically speaking, that the memory 
of Chatterton has been unjustly treated, but I also think that 
his despair was a weakness, and a consequence, as you remark, 
of an imperfect religious conception. I think also that his 
death would have been different had he lived in our days. 

" Despair, neutralizing activity, appears to me the highest 
point of selfishness. He who despairs of things and of men, 
and whom despair makes inactive or leads to quit life, is a man 
who has wished only to enjoy, and has made that his chief 
thought ; not being able to do that, he destroys his life, either 
morally or materially, as the child does its plaything. Now, 
I do not consider life a game, but a very serious thing : it is 
an office to be fulfilled in the world ; it is a series of duties 
to be accomplished in our own improvement or that of others ; 
it is virtue, and not happiness, which ought to be the aim of 
life. If in following the ways of virtue we find happiness, so 
much the better ; but if we do not find it, it should make no 
difference in our pursuit. This life, in short, I consider but as 
the infancy of another, and when God placed us in the world 
He said, ' AVork and do good according to the measure of your 
power and your knowledge ;' He did not say,-' Be happy.' For 
my own part, I do not believe in the happiness of the individual 
— in my own perhaps less than in that of others, — but I 
should be the most cowardly and the most inconsistent of men 
if, on that account, I should neglect to serve my country or 
the cause of my faith. You see, madame, that I am far from 
that state which may be called one of despair. I shall then 
labor, and intend in some measure to follow your advice. I 



LETTERS FROM MAZZINI. 233 

think seriously of occupying myself with a work the aim of 
which will be to make Italy known to your countrymen, such 
as I conceive it to be in its present state, and what it is likely 
to become. I shall write it in Italian, but I shall have it 
translated. It will be a long and difficult labor ; but although 
it is done through my imperfect means, some of the truths 
which it will contain may perhaps contribute to sow the seeds 
of sympathy between two nations, the one of which is already 
great and free, and the other must become so. I now wait for 
my books and papers to begin, and am at present engaged to 
contribute to a Journal, Le Monde. 

"I thank you much, madame, for your kind offer of recom- 
mendation, should I wish for pupils. You judge rightly in 
supposing that, did I require it, I should not hesitate to give 
lessons in my native tongue ; there is nothing in that which 
would in the least degree offend me, and I thank you most cor- 
dially for your offers of assistance. Your kindness induces me 
to ask your exertions in favor of a young Itahan at present in 
Edinburgh, whose name is Ruffini.^ 

" Giuseppe Mazzini." 



[^Second Letter to Mrs. Fletcher. 

" April, 1840. 
" Permit me to write to you, and permit me to make use for 
this time of a language which you know, and which is more 
familiar to me than yours. I write under the impression of a 
strong feeling of gratitude, and I feel a desire to let my pen go 
freely, to write as I used to speak to you, without stopping 
even for a moment to consider the form of my thoughts. I 
am always doubtful when I write in your language, which 

1 Agostino RufRni (the brother of Giovanni EuiBni, the author of " Doctor 
Antonio" and other works) passed eleven years of exile in Edinburgh ; and 
it is a comfort to think that this period was rendered as little painful as was 
possible in his circumstances by the respect and affection his virtues and 
talents inspired among all the friends he had there. He accepted the 
amnesty of 1848 and returned to Piedmont, filled an office at Turin with 
great ability and benefit to his country, and died of a very painful illness at 
Taggia in 1855, mourned and loved in no common measure. 



234 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

causes me a sort of painful feeling of restraint. Now, I wish 
to have pleasure in writing to you. I have first to thank you 
for the kindness with which you treat my friend Ruffini and 
then the remembrance which you have kept of me ; and to me 
it is delightful that it is through a tie of gratitude that I am 
led to renew our acquaintance. I had a desire to do so in 
order to efface a painful feeling, — not in you, who are too 
kind to remember what is wrong in others, but in myself. It 
reproaches me for having, during so long a period, neglected 
the first person who took an interest in me in London. I was, 
when I had the honor of knowing you there, in a moral state 
quite peculiar, tormented by a thousand chagrins, and brought 
by a course of real causes to believe that my friendship or my 
acquaintance could not give the least pleasure to any one, and 
might easily become a burden. I did not wish that, and so I 
found myself imperiously drawn towards a melancholy isolation. 
It was more a punishment to myself than a wrong done to 
others. Yet it was wrong. The happiness, or unhappiness, 
of our individual life should not interfere with our duties; it 
is not upon them, but upon the higher good, that our conduct 
should depend. I understood that very soon, and I wished to 
see you again, but you were I believe not in London, and I did 
not know your place of residence. I spoke of you to the few 
people whom I knew, among others to a man I much esteem, 
and who said he knew you, Mr. Thomas Carlyle, but he did 
not know your address at the time. I did not expect to find 
you again in Edinburgh, doing good to me in the person of my 
friend. As for him, I need not recommend him to you any 
more; I will only assure you that he deserves all that you can 
do for him, and he is one of those whose sincere and lasting 
gratitude is assured to every mark of benevolence and sympathy. 
The flower of the souls of us exiles is faded, but, thanks to 
God, the perfume has remained. Ruffini tells me you are 
about to spend some time at the Lakes of Westmoreland, but 
that you will let me know when you visit London. Till then, 
madame, think sometimes of me; and believe in the gratitude 
and esteem of Giuseppe Mazzini."] 

We passed the summer of 1837 at Darland, unmarked 



RETURN TO EDINBURGH. 235 

by any event, but in bappy intercourse with our friends at 
Fort Pitt, and in increased intimacy with the Richard- 
sons. 

We remained in Kent till after the birth of dear little 
Humphry Davy, who was born on the 15th September, 
1837. We saw him christened and his mother recovered, 
and then set oif for Yorkshire, travelling in our slow 
fashion, and taking Cambridge on our way. 

It was towards the end of October when we reached 
Oxton, where we intended to remain for some weeks with 
Angus, to be near my aunt. Miss Hill. Angus, at his own 
desire, had then embarked in a speculation in London, on 
which he entered about that time ; but we took possession 
of the cottage he had occupied, and the winter set in so 
early and so severely, one snowstorm after another, that 
we were compelled to remain there till the beginning of 
February, 1838. Our trunks and books had been sent off 
to Edinburgh, and we were detained three weeks before it 
was possible to set off on^-our journey north. Our only 
resource was to send for materials to clothe the poor of the 
village, and we and our maidens set busily to work, and 
this saved us from all fretfulness and impatience, as is well 
observed by an anonymous writer in " Chambers's Journal " 
— "that impatience always springs from a bitterer root 
than itself." Now, this wholesome occupation of working 
for the poor counteracted the selfishness that would have 
made us impatient at our detention at Oxton. 

We had a somewhat adventurous journey through the 
frozen piles of snow on each side of the roads by Wooler 
and Cornhill. The roads became heavier and deeper as 
we proceeded northward, and for many a weary mile we 
travelled through almost untracked snow, except such 
tracks as a few coal-carts made — dreariness and desolation 
on all sides of this Siberian landscape. Another day 



236 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

brought us to Lauder, and the following day we reached 
Edinburgh. 

"We were most kindly welcomed by our good friends 
Mr. and Mrs. Craig, in Great King Street, and their house 
was our hospitable and most agreeable home for several 
weeks, till we established ourselves at the pretty villa of 
DunclifFe, about two miles west of Edinburgh. 

Our return to Edinburgh as residents, after an interval 
of ten years, could not fail to be attended with many 
touching remembrances. Many of those whom we had 
left aged were gone, the middle-aged had become grey- 
headed, and children then in the nursery had reached 
manhood. Many whom we had left hard-worked Advocates 
were now raised to the Bench. Foremost among these old 
friends were Lords Cockburn, Jeffrey, and Cuninghame. 
The Whigs were still in office, and Edinburgh still retained, 
in our eyes, its unrivalled beauty and unbounded hospital- 
ity. We had no reason to regret returning to a place 
where we still had many friends, and where we were 
received with so kindly a welcome. 

We were most pleasantly situated at Duncliffe as to 
neighbors, about equal distances from Craigcrook and 
Belmont, where Lord Mackenzie then lived with his de- 
lightful wife and children — a home of rare cultivation, 
charm, and goodness combined. It was in September of 
that year we had the great pleasure of meeting Mrs. Fry 
at dinner at Lord Mackenzie's, and of attending a Friends' 
meeting at which she spoke, as well as at a meeting for 
constituting a female committee for visiting prisons. It was 
a great privilege to meet and be acquainted with Elizabeth 
Fry ; she was one of those rare spirits whom Milton 
describes in words that cannot die : — 

" Thy love is fixed, and zealously attends 
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 
And hope that reaps not shame." 



LETTER FROM MR. TICKNOR. 237 

That winter of 1838-9 was passed most pleasantly at Dun- 
clifFe, where old friends came sociably to cheer our winter 
days, and Mary was actively engaged in visiting Bridewell 
and the House of Refuge. 

On many snowy days, when no visitors were looked for, 
Lord Jeffrey was good enough to include Dun cliff e in his 
walks after he left the Court of Session. His conversa- 
tion, always full of intellectual variety and power, had 
become as remarkable for gentleness and kindness of feel- 
ing as it had always been for force. We met many agree- 
able strangei's both at Craigcrook and at his winter home in 
Moray Place, and never failed to experience a large meas- 
ure of his kindness, in spite of our differences of creed on 
"Wordsworth and Joanna Baillie, — subjects now mutually 
avoided. This reminds me to say that my maternal vanity 
was fed by receiving, about this time, a very pleasant letter 
from Joanna Baillie, which I have put aside for the Family 
Memorials, and one from Mr^ George Ticknor of Boston, 
along with two copies of the^American edition of " Conceal- 
ment," printed at Philadelphia. Mr. Ticknor says he had 
no hand in it ; he had sent a copy to the press at Boston 
from a conviction that it would be a very useful book for 
his countrywomen to read. When he met with this edition 
from the Philadelphia press, he stopped the New England 
one. Speaking of America after their late visit to England, 
in the same letter, Mr. Ticknor says : — 

" We are, as you know, established in our circle again in 
our happy and prosperous country. I cannot tell you what a 
pleasure this is. Whatever may be said of us by persons of 
different views on the principles of government, it is fully 
admitted that we are unlike any other people, — I think grow- 
ing more so by force of our free institutions, — so that we who 
have been born and bred here, and become attached to the 
country, are not likely to become substantially and equally 



238 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

happy anywhere else. I am sure this is the case with me. I 
have lived, at two different periods, eight years in Europe, and 
yet could never for a moment have the proper feeUng of home 
or its true contentment while I was there." 

This is a delightful testimony to the truth of country and 
home affections in an American of cultivated taste and real 
refinement. 

\_From Joanna Baillie to 3frs. Fletcher. 

" 1838. 

" Your friendly letter of the 21st of May was more than I 
deserved. I have long wished to tell you that I think Mrs. 
Davy's notices of Sir Walter's short abode at Malta are given 
with great delicacy and truth of observation ; and there are no 
notices in the whole seven volumes that I like better — I ought 
rather to say so well. How very touching it is to trace, as 
she gives it, the fading away of his mind and memory in the 
drive they took together in the country. After praising Miss 
Austen and the other female authors, he says, ' And there is an 
Irish lady too ' (I cannot tell you how these words went to my 
heart) — Maria Edgeworth, whom he had lived with and trav- 
elled with, and whose writings he would most undoubtedly 
have prized far beyond others. The confusion of his ideas and 
the sweetness of his disposition are in this portion of his life 
more naturally niarked perhaps than in any other. So much 
was I pleased with your daughter's discriminating, modest 
statement, that I had intended writing to you forthwith upon 
the subject, when other things came in the way, and so my 
intention became one of those with which, as Sir Walter says 
in one of his letters, the ' pavement of hell ' is composed. 

" Our neighbor, Mrs. Hoare, whose late excellent husband 
was one of the original committee, along with Clarkson, for 
the abolition of the slave-trade, is as little satisfied with the 
biographers of Mr. Wilberforce as you are. Surely their father 
had honor and credit enough fairly won without robbing others 
to enrich him. How richly have the lovers of biography been 
supplied of late in having two such men as Walter Scott and 
Wilberforce brought before them more or less skilfully, indeed 



MISS HILL'S ILLNESS. 239 

•with all the varied, extraordinary circumstances of their lives, 
cheerfulness and activity being the natural temperament of 
both."] 

Early in the spring of 1839 we received alarming 
accounts of my aunt Hill's health. I had written to her 
some weeks before, mentioning our intention of visiting 
Mrs. Davy in May ; and knowing she did not like to be 
troubled with guests in her house, I proposed to take 
lodgings at Thorp Arch, to be near her for a week or two. 
To this proposal I received no answer till I heard of her 
illness, and that she wished us to go to the Grange at once. 
We found her much reduced in strength, but care and good 
nursing brought her round, and before we set off for London 
I had the comfort of leaving with her a most respectable 
person as her companion and attendant. Miss Hill took 
leave of us cheerfully, and wished us to visit her on our 
return. 

We had scarcely been ajreek in London and another 
at Fort Pitt before we were recalled to Yorkshire, by hear- 
ing that Miss Hill had fallen in her own drawing-room 
and dislocated her hip, which at her age was very danger- 
ous. We set off the following day by railroad to Manches- 
ter (our first railway journey) and returned to the Grange 
early in June. We found my aunt in a state of great 
suffering, which she bore with wonderful patience. Her 
interest in the poor never diminished. I told her one 
morning I had no fewer than nineteen Irish haymakers 
already ai'rived in her back court that morning at breakfast. 
Her countenance brightened up as if I had told of a piece 
of good fortune. She loved the poor more and more as 
she approached nearer and nearer to God. She never was 
a great talker about religion, but every action of her life 
emanated from the pure love of God. She held the two 
great commandments — the love of God and her neighbor 



240 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

— as the light and guide of life. She had many natural 
infirmities of temper to contend with, and she often men- 
tioned with amusement an observation of a poor woman 
about her life when she was contrasting her own troubles 
with Miss Hill's freedom from them, " You have had a level 
life ; " but (she added) I told her that did not always follow, 
as she supposed ; that a " level " life had its trials and diffi- 
culties as great perhaps as many she had to bear, of a differ- 
ent kind — " trials from within." She often said old age 
was to her the happiest portion of life, because repose came 
with it. 

\_Mrs. Fletcher to Mrs. Davy. 

"The Grange, 1st July, 1839. 

" Still poor Miss Hill lingers in a state of great feebleness and 
suffering, but of much greater quietness and repose for herself 
and those around her than last week. Yesterday our dear 
Mary and I set off for Leeds, at seven in the morning, and I 
saw her and Janet safe in and on the Kendal coach at ten. It 
is quite a relief to me that this dear child is on the way to give 
and receive gratification she could not have had here. She 
was most unwilling to leave me. You once, dear ]\Iargaret, 
reminded me that I was more desirous to consult my children's 
pleasure than their performance of duty, and I did not venture 
to gainsay your gentle rebuke ; but in this case Mary has 
neglected no duty. I am well, and able to perform the task 
that is before me. It is plainly my duty to be here, because 
Miss Hill often asks for me, and if I am not by her bedside, I 
am in the garden or the hay-field, and can be with her in a 
moment. 

" Among the treasures of old books Mary has found here, in 
the room we were never before permitted to enter, not the least 
valuable is an old black-letter Bible. There is a Prologue to 
the Psalms (as it is called) , by St. Basil the Great, worthy of 
all admiration. I must give you a screed from it. He says — 
' Now whereas the Prophets have doctrines proper to them- 



LETTER FROM MRS. FLETCHER. 241 

selves, and the Books of the Divine Hystorys written by them- 
selves, and the Proverbial Books have their several kind of 
exhortations, the Book of the Psalms comprehends in itself the 
whole commodities of all their doctrines aforesaid ; for it 
prophecieth of things to come ; it recyteth the historys ; it 
showeth laws for the government of hfe; it teacheth what 
ought to be done ; and, to be short, it is a common storehouse 
of "all good doctrine which doth aptly distribute matter to 

every man peculiar to himself The Psalme is the rest 

of the soule, the rodde of peace ; it stilleth and pacifieth the 
raging billows of the mind ; it doth assuage and moUefie the • 
raging power and passion of the soule ; it maketh amitie where 
was discorde ; it knitteth friends together ; it returneth enemies 
to an unity again ; for who can long repute him as an enemy 
with whom he joineth himself in lifting up his voice to God in 
prayer? Oh! wise and marvellous device of our Heavenly 
School-master, who should invent that we should so pleasantly 
sing, and therefore profitably learn, whereby wholesome doctrine 
might be the deeper printed in us. ' 

" Now, I think you will admire St. Basil as much as we do. 
Don't vex yourself about ipy loneliness, dear M., for with 
the Psalms and St. Basil I am not lonely. Then here is a 
bright sunny day and a cheerful hay-field, for we began our hay- 
harvest in the Crab Garth this morning." 

Letter from Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary at 

Fox How. 

" Grange, July, 1839. 

" I have just had your welcome letter of Tuesday. You seem 
to be in Paradise, with none but happy spirits about you. I 
can see you every minute at dear Fox How with our beloved 
Mrs. Arnold, all her children about her except Jane ; but I can 
scarcely imagine her without Dr. Arnold. When does he return ? 

" Well, dear child, I wrote to you on the 10th, the day of our 
good aunt's release from suffering. I desired Pannett to con- 
vene ei^ht of the poorest of Miss Hill's tenants to carry her 
remains from the churchyard gate to the family vault in Tad- 
caster Church on Saturday. They had their breakfast at Betty 
Leed's cottage. Many of the most respectable inhabitants 
11 P 



242 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

followed the procession uninvited, and dressed in deep mourn- 
ing. Crowds of children gathered round the procession, and I 
truly believe there were many sincere and grateful mourners, 
both old and young. Angus and I walked first as mourners, 
George Fletcher and the Shanns also. 

" Our Vicar gave us really an excellent funeral sermon the next 
day, from the words (14th Luke, Kth verse) — ' For they can- 
not recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the 
resurrection of the just.' He dwelt with much truth and very 
good taste on her devotion to the poor — to their moral and 
spiritual as well as their temporal interests ; on her calling 
together the maimed, the poor, and the blind, and not the rich 
neighbors. In short, I had no idea of our Vicar being able 
to touch so many points of her character without exaggeration 
or false taste. I shed many more tears at his sermon than at 
her deathbed ; for solemn and awful as it was, thankfulness 
for the mercy of God, in hearing her earnest prayers for deliver- 
ance from suffering, was the strongest emotion I felt at the 
moment, and tender respect and reverence for her memory have 
been my abiding feelings ever since. Almost the only words 
she uttered for the last few days of her life were — ' My 
Father's arms,' ' My Father's arms,' often repeated. I think 
it was a mixed feeling of longing and reverence for her two 
strongest affections — her heavenly and her earthly Father. 
She longed for both in no common measure. 

" Do you know, dear Mary, I am sometimes uncomfortable at 
the idea of this door being closed against the poor and miser- 
able, to whom it has been opened for more than half a cen- 
tury? But I must compound with my conscience by making 
G — S — my almoner here to a liberal extent \ none knows 
better than he does who most need assistance, or will better 
administer it."] 

It was during Mary's visit at Fox How at this time that 
she told me, in one of her letters, that the proprietor of the 
little mountain farm of Lancrigg had come to her a week 
before she left Fox How, to fulfil a promise he had made 
her, some years before, not to part with Lancrigg without 



EXTRACTS FROM M. F:S NOTES. 243 

letting us know. At that time lie said, " I thought it never 
could be ; but now it must be, for my sons have brought 
me into trouble. " 

I have requested Mary to copy here the part of the 
journal she kept for me at the time relating to this little 
episode, which led to such happy results, and which came 
to her, as to me, quite unsought ; and had she not been in 
the neighborhood at the time, we might not have heard 
of this little possession again. 

Mary had seen a great deal of the Wordsworths, both at 
Fox How, their own Mount, and at Miss Fenwick's, who 
then lived at Gale House, Ambleside. She was an old and 
esteemed friend of mine during her Northumbrian life, and 
Mary paid her a visit at this time. 

\_Extract from M. F.'s Notes. 

Fox How, August, 1839. 
Last evening I went to meet the Rydal Mount party at Miss 
Fenwick's. On consulting Mr: Wordsworth about the beauti- 
ful little farm of Lancrigg (now for sale), in Easedale, he entered 
into the subject most kindly, and offered to find out for us its 
real value. He described the tangled copse and a natural ter- 
race under the crag as a very favorite resort of his and his 
sisters in bygone days, and said of the little " Rocky Well," 
"I know it by heart." He then asked Mrs. Wordsworth to 
look at his Miscellaneous Sonnets and read the one suggested 
to him there by the likeness of a rock to a sepulchral stone in 
that hazel copse. This she did with much expression. At this 
time he wore a green shade, and his head was usually bent 
down, his eyes being weak. He remembered two or three 
lines of the Sonnet, not the whole. It begins — 

" Mark the concentred hazels that enclose 
Yon old gray stone protected from the^ray 
Of noontide suns." 

On Sunday, as we were going to Rydal Church, we niet 
Wordsworth * with an Italian gentleman of the name of Miers, 
whom he was going to put on the way to Grasmere. We 



244 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

walked a little way with them ; and as the poet, on Italian 
politics, is all we can desire, I asked him to inquire from Mr. 
Miers, who was going to dine at Rydal Mount, if he knew any- 
thing about Mazzini at Genoa. Last night Mrs. Arnold and I 
sat with Mr. Wordsworth for above an hour, and he gave us 
many interesting particulars which he had heard from this 
Italian gentleman, with whom he had been much pleased. He 
said he had asked him about Mazzini, and heard a very high 
character of him in every respect. Mr. Miers said that shortly 
before leaving Italy he had called on the mother of Mazzini to 
ask her commands for her son. She was not well, but she 
said, " Don't tell Giuseppe that you found me ill, but tell 
him that not a day of my life passes that I do not thank God for 
having given me such a son." Mr. Miers added that "it was 
worthy of a Spartan mother ; but what made it so valuable 
was, that it was uttered by a Christian one." 

Wordsworth spoke with strong and deep feeling of the present 
state of Italy and the crushing despotism of Austria, supported 
as it is in secret, by Russia and Prussia. There is no law of 
copyright in Italy, so that the more excellent a book is the less 
chance an author has of making anything of the fruits of his 
mind. Wordsworth's discourse last night was varied, accurate, 
moral in its tone, and admirably descriptive of some scenes at 
Nismes especially, — not a trace of age or forgetfulness, not a 
link displaced in the chambers of imagery, or in the moral 
bearings of the subjects he was discussing. I cannot think 
that Milton himself could have talked more loftily against 
despotism, or more excellently on truth and justice.] 

Owing to Miss Hill's death it was not necessary for 
Mary to return to me in Yorkshire ; and as soon as I had 
settled all my affairs, consequent on the succession to my 
aunt's property, I rejoined her at Duncliffe in September, 
1839. 

We very soon entered on the possibility of the pro- 
jected purchase of Lancrigg as a summer refreshment, and 
as her future home at my death, and as I cordially entered 
into the plan, we authorized Mr. Wordsworth to act as our 



MR.WORDSWORTH.~HIS DAUGHTER'S LETTER. 245 

agent in the affair, which he was most kindly pleased to 
undertake ; and as few people have ever been so favored 
as to have had such a poet as their man of business, or such 
a clerk as his beloved daughter Dora, I here insert her 
letter to my daughter on the final arrangements, received 
in October, 1839 : — 

From Dora Wordsworth to Mary F. 

'J Rydal Mount, October 21rf, 1839. 
" My father, who is gone down to Calgarth, where he 
remains all night, requested me to inform you that this 
morning he had a long interview with old Rowlandson, which 
ended in his agreeing to purchase the property of Under 
Lancrigg for one thousand and thirty pounds, seventy pounds 
less than Mr. R. at first asked ; but my father particularly 
desired that I might say the price ' was very handsome, and 
more than he was likely to get from any other person, and yet, 
duly weighing the interests of buyer and seller, his conscience 
allowed him to take the land at that price.' My father named 
to Mr. R. the time when it- best suited Mrs. Fletcher to take 
possession. His reply was, ' The custom of the country is to 
pay down the purchase-money on the 14th February, when the 
purchaser comes into possession of the ploughed land, of the 
pasture land 26th April, of the houses 12th May ; and it 
would not be convenient for me, on account of my farmer, to 
depart from this custom.' And my father ventured to say 
that, under these circumstances, doubtless Mrs. Fletcher would 
be willing to abide by the custom. My father desired me to 
express his great satisfaction at your becoming possessors of 
this little property, which has for so many years been so dear 
to him and his, and Avhere so many happy hours have been 
passed by them ; and his earnest wish that many years of like 
happy enjoyment may fall to your and Mrs. Fletcher's share, in 
which wish I most cordially unite, as would my mother and 
Miss Fenwick were they here, but they left Ambleside this 
morning for a three weeks' absence in the county of Durham, 
— my mother to her relatives at Stockton-upon-Tees, Miss 
Fenwick to hers at Whitton, where she is to meet Mr. Henry 



246 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Taylor and his bride, whom he is bringing down to introduce 
to his father and mother. They were married at Hastings ou 
Thursday. Ahnost the last thing my mother said to me was, 
' Be sure you write to me as soon as your father has completed 
the bargain with Rowlandson, that I may tell the pleasant news 
to Mrs. Arnold, and, indeed, we shall give pleasure to many by 
this " bit of news." ' Mr. Allen Harden looked so bright upon 
it to-day ; he is here on his return from Italy only for a few 
days." 

In May, 1840, I took lodgings at Thorney How, Gras- 
mere, to enable us to superintend the alterations we intended 
to make at Lancrigg, so as to fit it for our summer quarters 
and Mary's future home. This furnished us with occupation 
and interest of a varied kind, assisted as we were by the 
advice and kindly interest taken in our new possession by 
Mr. Wordsworth and his ladies at the Mount. 

[The following extracts from a family note-book, written at 
the time, may be worth inserting here as relating chiefly to 
our intercourse with the inmates of Rydal Mount after we 
became stateswomen in Easedale : — 

From M. F.'s Note-book. 

We reached Thorney How on the 1st June, 1840, from 
Edinburgh. The day was bright and " beautiful exceedingly " 
when we reached our old mountain lodging and took possession 
of our bonny bit of earth adjoining to this little farm, which 
looked its best to welcome us. Mrs. Taylor, her Mary, and 
Angus had arrived some days before,«and our old landlady of 
the summer 1833 gave us a kindly welcome. 

It is a goodly corner we have lighted on "to bigge our- 
selves a bower in," and a dream of former days seems about 
to be realized without much effort on our part. So far it is 
safer than if it had been eagerly pursued. The beauty of 
Easedale is even greater than we remembered it to be, and 
Lancrigg so cheerful and innocent-looking, basking in the 
sun. I hope we shall not spoil it. The Wordsworth party 
were kind enough to call the day after we came, but we had 



WALK WITH WORDSWORTH OVER LANCRIGG. 247 

gone to Green Head Ghyll to get a supply of bread from the 
chief baker of the place, and missed them. 

On Thursday we called at the Mount, and the following day, 
the 4th June, Wordsworth came to an early dinner here. He 
was in a very happy mood, and threw himself into the interests 
of our possession in a most engaging manner. 

After dinner we all walked over the Intack part of Lan- 
crigg to our boundary wall, and to the point the poet_ especially 
adnilres, as commanding the wild mountain view into Far 
Easedale on one side, and the more cultivated peep into the 
Vale of Grasmere on the other, with the church-tower, the 
lake, and the end of Loughrigg as the boundary, which is a 
kind of sun-dial from that point of view. 'We went through 
the West Copse, which led us past Kitty Crag to Far Easedale, 
and back to Thorney How by the fiat part of the valley which 
goes by the name of Boothwaite, a favorite evening stroll of 

the poet. 

After this we had many meetings of real business with 
several neighbors Wordsworth consulted, because, as he said, 
" They understand these things' much better than I do." When 
we attempted to thank hinTfor the trouble he was taking for 
us, he took leave, saying, " I always feel that those who receive 
a benefit kindly also confer a favor." 

July 31st we spent at Rydal Mount, a bright evening. Mr- 
Henry Taylor ' and his lovely wife came with Miss Fenwick. 
He is still very handsome, with much of thought and power in 
his countenance. Mr. Wordsworth told us of a visit they 
had a few days before from the Princes of Ashantee, and added, 
"They were very good company;" and the ladies spoke 
of the pleasing expression of the younger Prince. It is 
to be hoped they may escape being eaten by their subjects 
when they return. What a contrast a tea-party at Rydal 
Mount, perhaps the highest point in man's civilized life in 
all its bearings, and a cannibal carousal in the jungles of 
Ashantee! It would be very interesting to trace the progress 
of these two Princes, if one could really get near their minds. 
They are at present under the care of a judicious tutor of the 
name of Pyne. 

1 Author of " Philip Van Ai-tevelde." 



248 .1 UTO BIO GRAPH Y. 

The following evening we went to drink tea with our cousins 
the Williamsons,^ at Mary Fisher's, where j\lr. and Mrs. 
Wordsworth joined us, walking from and back to Rydal Mount 
over the fell way. Mary Fisher had been their servant in 
their early days at the cottage at Town End. After tea the 
conversation turned on Crabbe and his poetry. Wordsworth 
considers him a dull man in conversation. He said he did 
not either give information, nor did he enliven any subject by 
discussion. lie spoke highly of his writings as admirable 
specimens of the kind, but he does not like the misanthropic 
vein which runs through them. He was surprised to hear from 
my mother that Crabbe's prose style was so stiff and artificial 
in his letters. He said that generally good writers of verse 
wrote good prose, especially good lettei's. " Cowper's letters 
are everything that letters can be, and many of Burns's are 
marvellous." His brother Gilbert, too, was an excellent prose 
writer. I attribute this very much to the method pursued by 
their father, and described by their tutor, Mr. Murdoch, a 
youth engaged to teach them. He details it in a letter in Dr. 
Currie's " Life of Bui-ns."] 

A few days after our return to Duncliffe we were fol- 
lowed by dear Margaret and her five children, Dr. Davy 
having been requested by Lord Palmerstou to undertake 
a special service at Constantinople with the view of effect- 
ing some reform in the mediciil department of the Turkish 
army, which had been agreed upon betw een the British and 
Turkish Governme'nts. 

"NVe spent a happy winter at Duncliffe with this addition 
to our family, preferi-ing to adopt the plan of joint house- 
keeping to having separate establishments. 

Mary and I returned to Thorney How in April, 18^:1, 

1 Mr. and Mrs. William.<on. He was the only child of my mother's early 
friend and cousin, K. I'awson of Wigiiill, who married a Lincolnshire 
clergyman and died in 1800. The second wife of her son and my mother 
became intimate friends, and met frequently both at Lancriijg and at their 
home, lleadiiiuly I'arsonaiie near Leeds. They now live at Kaii-stowe near 
Hatli, doing good which will live after them in the hearts of the many 
orphans her loving care has rescued from misery and ruin. 



WESTMORELAND WORKMEN. 249 

to expedite the proceedings of the dilatory workmen of the 
valley, who were highly amused at my Yorkshire activity in 
expecting them to be at work at seven a.m., and expressing 
surprise that the old men mounted the ladders and the young 
stood in idleness below. Our chief carpenter and man of 

affairs, old Edward W , was a fine example both in 

look and manner of the Westmoreland artisan. He told us 
that in our absence he discovered one morning that the 
foundation of one of the walls of the old part of the house 
had given way in the night, and that it was necessary for the 
safety of the building that the wall should be taken down 
and a new foundation made. The reply of the builders was, 
" They're nobbut women, they'll niver find it out." Our 
protector replied, " It mun come down. If they are nobbut 
women, we munna be rogues." 

Another of our Grasmere wallers amused us by his opinion 
of Mr. Wordsworth. My daughter, when enforcing her de- 
sire to have the chimneys like those in Troutbeck, said, 
" Mr. Wordsworth thinks -they are the best for tliis country, 
and we must do what he tells us." " Yes," said the man, 
deliberately, " M'appen he has as much sense as most on us." 
On the 16th of July, 1841, the anniversary of the fiftieth 
year since my marriage, we took possession of our dear little 
Lancrigg home. 

We spent a very pleasant autumn seeing much of our 
friends at Fox How and other kind neighbors; Hartley 
Coleridge, often coming in to share our early dinner, and 
who, with his gentle oddity and large range of contem- 
plation over his own thoughts, always added something to 
our stock of ideas by these wandering visits. We never 
made out whether he liked us or not, but we always made 
him welcome. 

Our pleasant villa at Duncliffe had during our absence 
been sold in a somewhat illegal manner, so that we were 

11* 



250 ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

obliged to move, and I authorized Mrs. Davy to take the 
large old-fashioned house of Murrayfield, which was nearer 
Edinburgh, and which accommodated our united families 
comfortably for the winter. 

Dr. Davy returned from Constantinople and joined us at 
Murrayfield in January, 1842. A very few nights after his 
return I met with a bad accident by a fall down stairs. 
There was a deep cut and bruise on one side of my fore- 
head, and I was some hours, perhaps days, under the im- 
pression that the injury might be of a serious nature, but 
I bless God I never for a moment lost consciousness, and 
if I were asked to mention three days of my active and 
varied life I would wish to live over again, I think I should 
say those three days that succeeded this accident, so intense 
was the feeling of devout thankfulness that it had pleased 
God to preserve my life and senses from sudden and afflict- 
ing disorder. My recovery was wonderfully rapid at the 
time. 

"We returned to Lancrigg the end of April, 1842, to com- 
plete the furnishing of the house and begin gardening 
operations. Angus joined us soon after, and, one day after 
being overheated by a long walk, as I was resting on the 
sofa in the drawing-room and Angus was reading to me, I 
was suddenly seized with a giddiness in the head, the room 
and everything seemed whirling round me, and though I 
never lost consciousness, these attacks returned so frequently 
as to alarm both myself and my family ; the seizures were 
so sudden and my helplessness under them so great as to 
threaten danger. Dr. Davy had the great kindness to 
come from Edinburgh to attend me ; he remained with us 
a month, and by his skill and attention, under the Divine 
blessing, the remedies applied proved successful. While 
this tendency to vertigo continued, I was not allowed 
either to read or write much, nor could I converse without 



MMS. FLETCHER'S ILLNESS. 251 

feeling a heat of head which I had never experienced before 
my accident. It was a summer of uncommon beauty. I 
sat much under the oak-tree, and carriage exercise always 
agreed with me. 

[It was during this time, when our dear mother was laid 
aside from her usually healthy and vigorous life for the first 
time in my recollection, that an event so mournful to our 
locality, and indeed to all England, occurred — Dr. Arnold's 
sudden death. We experienced on that occasion a pleasing 
mark of attention from one of our peasant neighbors, who 
lived between Rydal and Grasmere. The intelligence of this 
event reached the members of the Arnold family then at Fox 
How very early on Monday morning ; and this neighbor, 
knowing of my mother's illness, and of the great intimacy that 
subsisted between us, and fearing she might hear it suddenly 
in one of her daily drives, walked to Laiicrigg and reached it 
before 7 A. M. She asked to see me in my room. This enabled 
me, in some degree, to break the suddenness of the shock to 
my mother ; and it was a^pleasing testimony of the interest 
this neighbor took in both families. There was a long sus- 
pension at this time, owing to her illness, of any continuation 
in her family records of the sad events of that summer, for in 
August of the same year the two youngest little boys of Dr and 
Mrs. Davy were cut off in one week by virulent scarlet fever, 
and interred in one grave in the West Church Cemetery in 
Edinburgh. In writing of it afterwards, our mother says, in 
18M]: — 

It was a sorrowful season ; for not only had family 
affliction, in the death of the two dear little grandchildren, 
befallen us, but we had lost a neighbor and friend whom 
we both loved and honored. This was no other than that 
great and good man, Dr. Arnold of Rugby. He died of 
spasm of the heart, on the 12th June, 1842, after a few hours 
of acute suffering. He was taken away in the midst of his 
great usefulness and wonderful happiness, leaving a wife 
and nine childi-en — and such a wife ! sharing his every 



252 A UTOBIO GRAPE Y. 

thought and devoting herself to his happiness with un- 
equalled tenderness. As I said in writing to her long be- 
fore his death, and can now repeat, with more confirmed 
conviction, of their truth as applied to him than of any 
man I have ever known, Milton's words — he lived in their 
large Christian import — 

" As ever in his Great Taskmaster's eye." 

The sensation the death of this eminent scholar and truly 
Christian philosopher produced in our valley was remark- 
able. He had only spent a small part of the last eight 
years of his life here, and yet, without popular manners, 
his excellence, his gentle-heartedness, and genuine humility 
of mind, had made the poor consider him their friend, and 
the rich their genial and kind-hearted neighbor. 

The return of his bereaved family to Fox How without 
him, this sad, sad summer, was an affecting circumstance 
to all of us. Their light had indeed become dim, but was 
not extinguished ; for his works and his life, written by a 
faithful chronicler, will guide and comfort the lovers of 
Christ and goodness so long as the English language 
endures. 

My friend Lord Jeffrey writes to me in a letter lately 
received : — 

[""What you say of Arnold, and what I have been reading 
of his correspondence, will make the neighborhood still dearer 
and more interesting to me when we make out our visit to you. 
It is long since I have met with anything at once so lovable 
and so exalted. He was truly a noble creature : with the 
firmness of a hero, he had the softness of a woman, the devot- 
edness and zeal of an apostle or a martyr, and the gentleness 
and lowliness of a bashful child. I do not now wonder at 
what I used to think the exaggeration with which Mary used 
to speak of his character and the charm of his home life. It 
is sad to think that such an example and such a teacher should 
have been so early lost to the world. 



LAST EDINBURGH WINTER. 253 

" I feel, I believe, as you do as to poor T. Campbell ; and if 
I had not always all your indulgence for his faults, I am sure 
I am now disposed to remember nothing but his genius and his 
virtues, for I am quite aware that he had many virtues and 
endearing qualities, though they were more apt to give them- 
selves out to such gentle natures as yours than to those on 
whose ' pigeon livers ' he could not so well rely. I am glad 
to see they mean to give him a monument in Westminster 
Abbey. I am now agitating for one at Glasgow also. God 
bless you. Francis Jeffrey."] 

"We spent the winter of 1842-43 at Murrayfield very 
quietly, as prudence was strongly enforced on me since my 
late illness. 

Lord Jeifrey and Mrs. Mackenzie were among our kindest 
and most frequent visitors, and we could scarcely have had 
any society more to our taste. Lord Cockburn also looked 
in upon us often, with his cl^ar eyes and grand forehead 
still untouched by age or wrinkles. 

We returned in April, 1843, to Lancrigg, and as age was 
beginning to make me feel frequent journeys and the 
care of two houses somewhat irksome, we resolved hence- 
forth to make Lancrigg our permanent summer and winter 
home. 

We were decided to make this arrangement by Dr. and 
Mrs. Davy having resolved to sell their house in Edinburgh, 
where they had suiFered so much, and to establish them- 
selves for the future in the Lake district. They bought a 
few acres of land a short distance from Ambleside, on the 
way to Rydal, and built an excellent house there, which was 
just finished and inhabited before Dr. Davy accepted an 
appointment offered to him in his own department in the 
West Indies. His mind was too active to be happy at his 
age without useful employment. 

Thiis, much to my contentment, it came to pass that we 
formed a little family colony in a district early endeared 



254 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to us by frequent visits, by many enduring friendships, 
and, besides the abiding charm of the " everlasting hills," 
possessing a circle of people singularly free from the frivol- 
ities of fashionable life, while it combined still " plain living 
and high thinking" at the fountain-head^ of that glorious 
Sonnet. There was also more than ordinary cultivation 
among the gentlefolks, who were chiefly ladies, and much 
of honesty and independence among the working classes, 
with very little poverty and distress, except what intem- 
perance produced. 

The winter of 1843-44 was the first we spent in Ease- 
dale, and we found it by no means too sombre or solitary. 
There was a frequent intercourse between our friends of the 
Rydal valley, and Mrs. Davy and her children spent the 
Christmas week with us. My grandson, Henry Fletcher, 
too was with us, and left us on the 22d January, 1844, for 
his first term at Oxford. 

We had the gratification in October, 1844, of a visit from 
Dr. and Mrs. Alison. Dr. Alison's is a character that 
deserves to be loved and honored. He has devoted his 
life to the health and comfort of the poor, and his means 
also, and the excellent pamjahlet he published in 1840, on 
the destitution of the poor in Scotland, awakened all classes 
in that country to a sense of shame, and a desire to inquire 
into and remedy the abuses he was the first to disclose and 
make public. In consequence of his book, associations 
were formed in Edinburgh, and in all the great towns in 
Scotland, to inquire into the statements he had made, and 
to apply to Parliament for a Poor Law for Scotland more 
suited to the condition of the people, and to the increased 
wealth and ability of the higher classes. Dr. Alison will 
in after times be considered one of the greatest benefactors 
of his country, as he is now looked up to as the man most 

1 Rydal Mount. 



CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES. 255 

distinguished for personal and active exertions in the cause 
of humanity. "We considered it a great honor to have 
such a man under our roof, and Mrs. Alison's talents, prin- 
ciples, and most agreeable manners, make her worthy to 
be his wife. It is one of the true pleasures of age to be 
able to continue the early friendship I had for their accom- 
plished father in the persons of two of his children, Dr. 
Alison and dear Mrs. Burge. 

After the Alisons left us, the days shortened, and winter 
set in early, with more than usual severity. Henry Fletcher 
came from Oxford to spend his Christmas, and his cheerful 
temper cheered our winter fireside. My sailor grandson 
Archibald, who had just been promoted to the rank of 
lieutenant, joined his brother here on his way to Edin- 
burgh. The brothers were delighted to meet again. Archi- 
bald's promotion was a joyful event, and his coming a great 
pleasure to us all. 

We had some pleasant neighborly gatherings at Christ- 
mas, and to keep my birthday in January, when games and 
charades were performed by young and old with great 
effect. Our pleasant neighbors, Mrs. Cookson and her 
daughters, assisted and enjoyed the fun, and I was glad to 
feel a growing intimacy and regard between Mrs. Cookson 
and myself. It is not often warm friendships are formed so 
late in life ; but she commanded my respect and affection 
from the first by her dignified submission to altered circum- 
stances, her active benevolence, and her motherly heart. 

The Rev. Robert Graves, at that time and for several 
ye^rs the curate at Bowness, was a favorite guest at the 
family gatherings which took place on the 15th January, to 
keep my birthday, and he was playfully designated my 
" poet laureate." He is a man much beloved, of wide 
sympathies and varied cultivation. [We had at this time 
as neighbors, at Wansfell, Mr. and Mrs. W. R. Greg, and 



256 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

had much friemilr intercourse. — both, behig the children 
of ohi friends of my mother, in adiiition to their own merits 
of kindness and agreeableness.] 

^Te never for a moment repented of our resohition " to 
marrj the Lakes after flirting" with them so long. 

[To Mrs. Fletcher. 

ON THE SETESTY-FIFTH ANSITEESART OF HER BIRTHDAY. 

" Far to mine inward sense a solemn toll 

That word, thy birthday. Friend revered, conveys ; 

Yet when upon thy stately form 1 gaze, 

And drink thy glance. — bright efflux of a soul 

"\A'hose charity still flows from pole to pole. 

Whose fire of youth still burns with kindling rays, — 

Scarce can my wondering mind believe thy days 

Five years have passed man's limitary goal. 

Time's Favorite art thou ; to thee we turn 

For memories of the great his depths conceal. 

Thine honoi'ing friends ; nor these alone we learn. 

But fresh enthusiasm quaff and holy zeal. 

Then live, live on ; Heaven leave thee still below, 

To warm our old hearts with thy vernal glow. 

•• R. P. G. 

"January 15, 1845."'] 

In April. 1845. we made a railway expedition to London. 
At seventy-five I travelled from Lancaster to Euston station 
without fatigue. We spent three agreeiible weeks with 
my dear old friend Mrs. Chapman at Blackheath Park. I 
went purposely to visit her ; and it was delightful to see 
how happily and tranquilly she passes the evening of her 
days in the midst of her affectionate family, two sons and 
three daughters. It is instructive to see that, with much 
difference of opinion on religious points, they agree to differ 
without any abatement of love or respect towards each other. 

We spent a pleasant hour or two with the Jeff'reys at 



MAZZIXI AT BLACKHEATH. 257 

their hotel in Brook Street, and met there the good ohi 
Whig Lord Lansdowne. who was very courteous and kind 
to an ohi Edinburgh Whig Ltdy who oouhi go back as far 
in her recollection ofpublic events as he could himself. 

TTe saw Mazzini frequently during this period, as my 
good friend was not afraid of him. and he was invited to 
join us more than once at Blackheath at luncheon, where 
his eloquence and the power he then had of expressing 
himself in good English was appreciated by all. He is a 
noble-minded creature, a man of great ability and elevated 
spirit, ready to undergo martyrdom for the deliverance of 
his country from the different tyrannies which crush it — 
north and south, east and west. He is not loud, but deep 
in the expression of patriotic feeling, and righteous in his 
hatred of oppression and injustice. 

There is still a deep melancholy abotit the habitual ex- 
pression of his fine countenance, but it is very ditterent 
from what it was when I first saw him> in 1837. He is 
evidently working for his c(5untry with more of hope than 
he then had. He gave us a little account of his Italian 
school, which still goes on, and spoke with deep feeling of 
the brothers Bandieri. "When we told him how much we 
had liked Thomas Carlyle's letter about liim at the time the 
opening of his letters was brought before Parliament, his 
face lighted up with pleasure, and he said, " Yes, and you 
do not know why it was so good of Carlyle to write it, for 
we had before that some dift'erences of opinion which had 
led to some coolness between tts. bttt when he saw I needed 
a friend he came to my sitpport ; that I call noble." He 
spoke of Sir James Graham's attack upon him in the House 
of Commons with perfect composure, saying that he felt it 
more for his friends than for himself. 

"VTe reached our dear home the end of May, 1S45, after 
this little peep into the busy world, and enjoyed a pleasant 

Q 



258 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

summer seeing several old friends, with the usual variety 
that summer brings with it at the Lakes — of agreeable 
strangers from distant lands. 

We accepted the pressing invitation of our kind friends, 
the Miss Campbells, 35 Heriot Row, to go to Edinburgh in 
the spring of 1846, taking my granddaughter Grace Davy 
with us, that she might have the advantage of Edinburgh 
masters for a time. We reached Edinburgh on the 28th of 
February. We had no cause to complain of our wintry 
journey, and were most lovingly received by our warm- 
hearted friends. 

On the morrow, Sunday, I was too tired to go to church, 
but after morning service we had several visitors. Lord 
Jeffrey, Mrs. Thomson, Dr. Allen Thomson, and others. 
If I had ever doubted the warmth and kindness of the 
Scottish character, this visit to Edinburgh would have 
convinced me of it. 

The hospitalities and cordial welcomes of a whole winter 
were crowded into the two very agreeable months we spent 
under the roof of our hospitable friends. We scarcely made 
a single new acquaintance, nor did we wish it. We went to 
no public places of any sort, or to any fashionable parties, 
but our time was occupied from seven in the morning till 
ten at night, when I was glad to retire to bed. From seven 
till nine I wrote letters in bed by candle-light. We break- 
fasted at ten ; after that till twelve I had a levee of humble 
friends, old servants, and pensioners, those who wished to 
tell me their family history and hear mine, without being 
objects of charity. After luncheon, the world, as it may be' 
called, flocked in upon us, and none of those whom we had 
known ever so slightly failed to pay us this mark of personal 
regard on our return to Edinburgh. We dined oxit three or 
four times a week, attending Lord Jeffrey's most pleasant 
soirees, to which he gave us the entree, and also Lady 



DR. CHALMERS. 259 

Murray's, at both of which we met many I had known in 
the nursery, now eminent barristers. 

One of our highest gratifications during this visit to 
Edinburgh was to hear Dr. Chalmers address his humble 
congregation in the Tanners' Warehouse in the West Port, 
where he has assembled a ragged school for week-day 
teaching, and it is used as a place of worship on Sundays. 
It is near the scene of the Burke murders. The persons, 
old and young, who are gathered together there, never 
probably before heard the word of God, or were taught to 
feel their relation to Him as immortal beings. 

We breakfasted with Dr. and Mrs. Chalmers at Morning- 
side the day after he completed his sixty-sixth birthday. 
His morning prayer was beautiful, one of its petitions I 
remember, " Give us, O Lord, such holy dispositions on 
this side of death as may fit us for the blessedness Thou 
hast prepared on the other side, of death for those who love 
and do Thy truth here, in lowliness of mind." 

Dr. Chalmers spoke witlTgreat interest of the Lakes and 
of Wordsworth, asking many questions about him, and 
returning to it when other subjects were introduced. He 
said he took a walk from Fife to Westmoreland in 1797, 
and he afterwards visited Rydal Mount in 1817. He said, 
" I always felt attracted to Wordsworth by his love for the 
common people." In speaking of Grasmere he said, with 
a sweet glow of countenance for a man of sixty-six, " There 
is an intense loveliness about that place." He spoke very 
warmly of Dr. Arnold's sermons, and said they contained 
Evangelical doctrine without the phraseology which often 
weakens the effect of the most important truths. 

We saw for the last time our faithful friend of many, many 
years, Dr. Thomson of Morland. His mind in his eightieth 
year was in full vigor, and it was a mind of great strength 
and energy, with much warmth and generosity of feeling. 



260 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

"We spent a most agreeable day at Belmont. Lord 
Mackenzie's conversation lias increased in richness and 
flow, and in^ a quiet humor peculiarly his own ; his wife 
as charming as ever, and all the intercourse we had with 
Lord Cuninghame and his wife, and many other dear 
friends of " auld lang syne," made us rejoice we had under- 
taken this journey once more to experience afresh the 
feelings of gratitude towards those with whom we lived, 
and all who received us so lovingly. 

In the autumn of 1846 we had several agreeable visitors, 
one American lady, Margaret Fuller, and two friends with 
her, spent some hours here. She struck us as very original, 
with great powers of expression and genuine enthusiasm for 
what is good and beautiful, which always attracts me much. 
She is neither English, Scotch, nor Irish, but it is pleasant to 
be able to communicate in our own tongue so freely as one 
can do with an agreeable American woman of genius. 

In September, Sir John Richardson paid us a week's 
visit on his way to see his venerable mother at Dumfries. 
We had not met since the death of his excellent wife 
a year and a half before this time. He spoke much 
about the different characters of his children, and we felt 
that besides his many fine qualities, he united in a 
remarkable degree the tenderness of a mother's feelings 
towards them, with a father's anxiety for their good 
and happiness. 

After passing a pleasant and peaceful winter at Lancrigg, 
Mary and I joined Mrs. Davy and her daughters at Leam- 
ington, in February, 1847, almost a new scene to all of us ; 
but good masters for the girls were to be had there, the 
object of our going. 

After paying several short visits on the south coast, and 
also in Yorkshire, Mary and I reached our beloved Lanc- 
rigg on May 17th, 1847. 



LETTER TO MRS. CHAPMAN. 261 

Easedale was in the perfection of its early beauty, and 
we never felt it so much as on this occasion, or enjoyed the 
blessing of its repose more thankfully. 

The preparations for Mary's marriage so occupied the 
time that intervened before that event was to take place — 
the 4th of August — that we saw less company than usual, 
and I have little to relate except the calm anticipation of 
a marriage, that was for a time to separate me from my 
affectionate and constant companion ; but I felt we should 
be little apart in the body, and not at all in spirit, and 
that in her union with so amiable a companion as Sir John 
Richardson I confided her to one who would greatly add to 
her happiness as well as to my own. 

[ To Mrs. Chapman, from Mrs. Fletcher. 

" June 2m, 1847. 

" I ought to have thanked yoli before this for the affectionate 
congratulations I received from you on the happy prospects that 
are opening for my dear Mary. Hers, as Joanna Baillie writes 
in her congratulatory letter, is ' both a reasonable and romantic 
marriage ; ' and this description of it accords with Mary's 
character, which is at once reasonable and romantic — reasonable 
in her estimate of the value of things, and romantic in her 
standard of what is requisite in character to interest her affec- 
tions ; hence she has always been a fastidious person, and, 
fortunately. Sir J. Richardson happens to possess the quahties 
to which she has always attached most importance. You, my 
dear friend, who know what we are to each other, will feel for 
me, as many do ; but I am more delivei-ed from self on this 
occasion than I ever expected to be, and I can assure your 
motherly heart that Sir John does not wish us to be separated 
at all, but that in winter at least I should make my home at 
Haslar for the future. Mrs. Davy claims me for the alternate 
winters, and the summer months I shall spend at Lancrigg as 
usual, if God so wills it ; but it is presumptuous to look for- 
ward at seventy-seven. 

" I ought to tell you, my dear old friend, that Sir John 



262 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Eichardson frankly told us that iu case no intelligence con- 
cerning the fate of the Franklin Expedition reached England 
by the return of the -whale-ships this autumn, or by their own 
return, which he fully expects, he had promised to conduct a 
searching boat expedition to set forth in the spring of 1848. 
This is the only cloud in the distance ; but if Mary is wilUng 
to undertake the charge that would then devolve upon her, it 
is not for me to gainsay so generous a resolution." 

Letter from Lord Jeffrey. 

" E. I. College, Tuesday, llth May, 1847. 

"My ever dear Mrs. Fletcher, — It always makes me 
happier and better to get a letter from you, for it makes me think 
more favorably of our common nature, and of myself also, both 
as belonging to it and as capable of being gratified by finding it 
so lovable. Generally, too, it lets me see that the most truly 
lovable are the most surely happy, and this, I need scarcely 
say, is peculiarly the case with your last most kind, most pleas- 
ing, and most amiable communication. You have told me' 
everything so frankly, so reasonably, so gently, and so naturally, 
that I enter at once into all your feelings, and rejoice in your 
joy, as cordially as if I had always had the same interests and 
anxieties as to the objects to which they relate. 

"Do assure my dear Mary of the entire sympathy I have 
in her prospects of happiness, and of my confidence in their 
being realized. I always thought her rather too difficult and 
disdainful of our poor rough sex, and am very glad that she 
has at last found one to reconcile her to it, and much obliged 
to Sir John Richardson for having procured us that indulgence. 

" I hope to see both her and you once more before I die; 
but it cannot, unfortunately, be now. ... — With all lov'e, 
and i-espect, and good wishes, and blessings, believe me always, 
my dear Mrs. Fletcher, very affectionately yours, 

" F. Jeffrey."] 

After the marriage took place (on the 4th of August), 
and the wedding guests had dispersed, I courted repose, and 
Margaret, with her usual attention to my wishes and com- 
fort, invited the whole party to spend the evening at 



LETTER TO LADY RICHARDSON. 



263 



Lesketh How, leaving dear Mrs. Taylor to stay quietly 
with me at Lancrigg. Days and weeks passed on, en- 
livened by letters from the married pair on their tour 
through Holland and on the Rhine, where they paid an 
interesting visit at Pastor Fliedner's Institution at Kaisers- 
werth, Sir John having a hope of getting some change made 
in the nursing arrangements at Haslar Hospital. 

Mrs. Taylor, her daughter, and Angus, formed my home 
circle. Some very agreeable neighbors, of the name of 
Broadley, took lodgings at Thorney How that autumn. 
We found them a great acquisition, and met frequently in 
a pleasant way. Our autumn passed pleasantly, and every 
exertion was made by those with me to lessen my feelings 
of regret, or rather of want, in the loss of her who, as Words- 
worth used to observe, was my " inseparable companion." 

[From Mrs. Fletcher, to her daughter Mary. 

" September, 1847. 
" I have been reading with great interest Mr. Brooks' suc- 
cessful action against a fleet of pirates off Borneo. I see that 
great and good man is coming home to have his Governorship 
of Labuan ratified. If he is at Portsmouth I hope Sir John 
and he may meet; he is a noble specimen of what disinterested 
courage and humanity can achieve. I think your husband and 
he are kindred spirits. 

" I took a turn before breakfast this morning, and stood at 
your favorite point at the gate looking into Easedale. I also 
took leave of poor Wifie,i but hope to see her again at Haslar, 
and you on her back. I gave Joseph strict charges to see her 
safe in her box at Oxenholme. Mrs. Arnold came with the 
Lesketh How party yesterday to dinner. I see how much she 
misses you when she comes here, dear Mary. To me you are 
so constantly present that I think I miss you less when I am 
in company than when I am alone, and could have a quiet chat 
with you; but in or out of company I bless God for having 

1 A favorite gray pony. 



264 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

provided you with objects of affection and opportunities of use- 
fulness which will be of such value to you after my death. 
This hope and belief cheers and supports me continually, and 
prevents my complaining of our temporary separation."] 

At the end of October, when my other children left me, 
I v^ent to Lesketh Hovp. It vv^as a cheerful, pleasant winter. 
Mrs. Davy and her dear girls did all that affection and sym- 
pathy can do to cheer the occasional languor of age, and I 
bless God for having given me such a child as Margaret, ful- 
filling as she does the duties of a Christian daughter, wife, 
and mother. 

\_From letter to her daughter Mary. 

" November 2itli, 1847. 
" We went this evening to drink tea at Rydal Mount, and 
found the dear old couple tete-a-tete. Mrs. Arnold went with 
us. Mr. Wordsworth was more like his former self than I 
have seen him since Dora's death. He showed us two letters 
he had had this week from ladies he had never seen or heard 
of, — one in prose, the other in verse. The former said she was 
the wife of a hard-worked London solicitor with five children. 
She found her greatest solace for all her cares and troubles in 
his ' Excursion.' She compared herself to a wearied traveller 
seated by a dusty roadside, tired and thirsty, M'hen lo ! a 
fountain of fresh water sprang up by her side; she drank of it 
freely, was refreshed and strengthened to pursue her journey. 
This was the effect ' The Excursion ' produced on her mind 
and feelings. The other letter was from a solitary single woman, 
who describes herself as one who has survived all her kindred 
and the friends of her youth, and, seated on the sandy beach 
at Southport, she can forget all her sorrows when she has a 
volume of Wordsworth in her hand. Some of the lines are 
very good, and reminded us of Crabbe. Mrs. Arnold told him 
a gentleman at Oxford had made Susy read to him Words- 
worth's Poem of ' Lycoris,' and we begged him to read it to 
us. He said it was suggested to him one day at Ullswater, 
in the year 1817, by seeing two white sunny clouds reflected 



VISIT TO LIVERPOOL. 265 

in the lake. ' They looked (he said) like two swans.' He read 
the poem twice over, in his most beautiful and impressive man- 
ner. It describes a feeling quite familiar to me, — the prefer- 
ence the young have for autumn and the old for spring."] 

Lesketh How, loth January, 1848. — I bless God for 
having permitted me to see this seventy-eighth birthday in 
the possession of all my mental faculties, and in bodily 
health less infirm than is common to persons of my age. 
I have through this long life experienced so many mercies, 
that my heart is full, but not full enough, of thankfulness 
and love towards that Being who created and redeemed 
me. Blessed be His name. From infancy I have been an 
object of tender love to all my family and relations that 
watched over me. I had the kindest and tenderest of 
husbands, and now, in my seventy-ninth year, I am blessed 
with most dutiful and affectionate children and grand-chil- 
dren, and many most attached friends. This day I received 
testimonies of this love and'respect from dear Margaret and 
her three children, from Mrs. Taylor and her Mary, from 
my own Mary and her excellent husband Sir John Richard- 
son (whose letter I shall keep while I live), and from my sou 
Angus, who never forgets his mother's birthday. 

On the 19th of February, 1848, Mrs. Davy and I and 
her two daughters set off in the train from Birthwaite to 
Liverpool. We were most kindly welcomed by Mrs. 
Rathbone and her excellent husband at Green Bank, and 
spent three days most agreeably with them. They are 
people whose whole lives have left a track-life to those who 
follow them, both of them being constantly occupied in 
seeking and finding opportunities of doing good. They 
unite with all the most active principles of the Christian 
character, the most liberal opinions, and a spirit of charity 
and good-will to those who differ from them in religious 
opinions. 
12 



266 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

Mrs. Rathbone introduced me to a most remarkable 
character, " Catherine of Liverpool," the well-known washer- 
woman, who, after helping all her poor neighbors to keep 
themselves clean, while she herself was toiling for her 
daily bread and supporting her aged mother, and making 
her house a refuge for many an orphan child, is now, 
through the influence of Mrs. Rathbone, placed at the head 
of a great washing establishment for the poor. Catherine 
is an Irishwoman, and a Methodist, and has all the fluency 
and cheerfulness of her countrywomen, with all the Christian 
love of God and her neighbor which John Wesley taught 
his followers as the main evidence and test of their religion. 
It did one's heart good to hear Catherine pour out her 
gratitude to Mrs. Rathbone when that lady was not within 
hearing. 

From Green Bank we went the first day to Rugby to 
see Archy Davy, and the following day (the 23d) reached 
the Euston Square station, where Angus met us ; and we 
found waiting for us, in the lodgings taken in Weymouth 
Street, dear Mrs. Taylor and her daughter. Sir John 
Richardson, and my own Mary, who were on a visit to 
Lady Franklin. A gladder heart than mine was not that 
day in London, to have my four surviving children and my 
excellent son-in-law. Sir John Richardson, and three dear 
great-grandchildren all about me, in health and comfort, 
and all making merry at my expense when I insisted, after 
my journey, on setting forth before dinner to make my- 
self " hraw " by buying a cap and bonnet in Regent 
Street. 

I had not seen my dear Mary since I had jjarted with 
her on her marriage-day, the 4th of August. We were so 
glad to meet again, that the traces of anxiety on the near 
prospect of parting with her husband were that day not 
predominant in her speaking countenance. 



LETTER TO MRS. STARK. 267 

[Part of letter to Mrs. Stark, from Mrs. Fletcher. 

" Haslar, March 2m, 1848. 
" The public and private events that have filled the last five 
•weeks since we left Lesketh How and reached this place leave 
me at a loss how to write to you at this the first leisure hour 
I have been able to command. ... I remained with our assem- 
bled family party a week in London, dining out nowhere but 
at Lady Franklin's, where the Kichardsons were on a visit. 
On the evening of the 2-ith, at Lady Franklin's soiree, Dr. 
Boott came in and gave us the first news of the French revolu- 
tion — that is, the news of the tocsin sounding in the streets 
of Paris, the tricolor waving as of old, the fraternization of the 
people, and the military helmets (not heads) carried on poles 
through the streets, and the people rushing into the Chamber 
of Deputies, crying ^Vive la Republique.' We were struck 
dumb with this astounding intelligence. Mr. Carlyle was sit- 
ting by me at the time. I looked at him, hoping he would 
speak. He said not a word, but broke out into a loud laugh, 
and rose and left the house, jfeordevour the journals, which that 
night were filled with news from Paris. 

' ' I had engaged Mazzini to breakfast with us the following 
morning, and he came ; by that time the flight of the King and 
of Guizot was known, and the excitement had become exces- 
sive. It was beautiful to hear Mazzini's eloquent and simple 
lamentation over the moral degradation of Guizot. ' It was 
from his lectures,' he said, ' I first learned to love civil and 
religious liberty ; and that such a man should truckle to the 
base measures of Louis Philippe is deplorable.' 1 asked Mazzini 
what effect this would produce in Italy. ' The most glorious 
effect,' he answered ; 'the fall of the French monarchy is the 
restoration and union of Italy.' 

" We heard a few days after this Mazzini had left London 
for Paris ; and he is one of those master spirits destined, I trust, 
not only to serve but to save his country. He is a determined 
and uncompromising republican, but so true a lover of justice 
and humanity that he will take no part with those who do not 
make these their principles of action. . . . 

" As to French affairs, I cannot pretend to see or understand 



268 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

how the financial difficulties are to be got over. Lamartine 
immortalized himself at first by abolishing the punishment of 
death for all political offences ; but my great hope is in the 
ascendency of Odillon Barrot over the National Guard and the 
middle classes. His extraordinary freedom from selfishness and 
party spirit in yielding to and even supporting the Provisional 
Government till the elections are over, when they resign their 
power to the will of the National Assembly, is above all praise. 
If all this can be accomplished without anarchy and bloodshed, 
it will be owing to the moderation of Odillon Barrot and his 
friends, who stand in the position the Gironde held in 1792. 

" What a beautiful manifestation does this contrast of 1848 
to 1792 make as to the improvement and progress of Europe in 
the last sixty years! Tell Mrs. Bannatyne, with my kind love, 
that I rejoice she has lived to make this glorious comparison. 
It is a comfort to us both to know that the smallest services 
those we loved best rendered to the good cause in those days of 
cowardly oppression, when they, and honest men like them, 
never shrank from the maintenance of high principles, that 
such service then, tells now in the different reception that 
England and Scotland gave to this over that state of things in 
France in 1792. But I must quit this most engrossing subject, 
and come down from my hobby to private matters. 

" Sir John Richardson left us last Monday, and was to sail 
yesterday from Liverpool to New York. He gave me a short 
sketch of his route, which I sent to my granddaughter, desiring 
her to make a copy to send to you. 

" As Sir Edward Parry told me yesterday, ' I think no man 
ever set out in a truer missionary spirit, or made a more gener- 
ous sacrifice of private happiness than he has done,' and I am 
thankful to say his wife fully participates in the unselfishness 
of his conduct. The separation has been and is a very great 
trial to her. I thought her looking very ill and anxious when 
I came, but she is calm, subdued, and not uncheerful. She 
is devoted to the children, and they cling round her with 
confiding affection. She and I have the heart-intercourse we 
always had, and I am thankful. I think I told you Sir John 
had kindly proposed to take Thorney How for the governess 
and children during the time of his absence, so that we might 



SEVENTY-NINTH BIRTHDAY. 269 

be as little separated as possible. Lancrigg would not bold us 
all with my other summer guests. 

" I return with Margaret in April, and Mary joins me in May 
with her little flock. The Admiralty allow Sir John the use 
of the house here should Westmoreland not agree with the 
children, I have not written so long a letter for many months, 
so, dear friend, you must take the quantity instead of the qual- 
ity. God bless you all. E. F."] 

Lancrigg, 14th January, 1849. — To-morrow, if it please 
God to spare me till then, I shall have completed my seventy- 
ninth birthday, and entered upon the eightieth year of my 
life. This is a solemn thought, and ought to excite in me 
the deepest thankfulness to God for having been permitted 
to enjoy so much health of body and mind at so advanced 
a period. I have not been without my share of trials and 
disappointments, or deep sorrows, but they have been ac- 
companied with many alleviations. I have loved much, 
and have had the happiness to be much beloved, as a 
daughter, wife, and mother. These are the crowning 
mercies of God in my pilgrimage hitherto, but my soul 
longs for a more intimate communion with God. I delight 
to do His will, and rejoice in the spirit of thankfulness 
for " the goodness and mercy " which " have followed me 
all the days of my life," but I deplore the sinfulness of my 
nature : I am too apt to be disturbed by trifles, am too 
impatient, and not sufficiently attentive to the feelings of 
others. I have too much self-love, and am not so humble- 
minded as I would desire to be. Oh my God, Thou who 
knowest my infirmities, have mercy upon me ; pardon my 
transgressions in thought, word, and deed ; make me to 
feel habitually that " I am poor and needy, but that Thou 
carest for me ; " and in the trial that awaits me, the parting 
with my dear and dutiful child Mary, who has been my 
affectionate companion from her childhood, grant that I 



270 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

may submit without repining to a separation that she feels 
not less than I do, but which it is plainly her duty to do, 
and mine to suffer. It is a more grievous separation than 
that occasioned by her marriage, because she then had a 
cheerful and happy home to go to, and the companionship 
of her husband to cheer and support her. Now her anxie- 
ties about his safety are aggravated by her sorrow for poor 
Josephine Richardson's illness and her concern for me ; 
but God, who knows the singleness of her heart and the 
integrity of her purpose to do her duty, will support and 
bless her. 

Lancrigg, April 21, 1849. — Towards the end of Decem- 
ber, 1848, a joyful event occurred : Dr. Davy returned 
safely and in good health from Barbadoes, and the thank- 
fulness and gladness of heart thus afforded to my dear 
Margaret was visible in her countenance and the improve- 
ment of her health and spirits. 

Another event conducive to my tranquillity of mind and 
domestic happiness occurred. Angus had been invited by 
the Colonization Society in London to accompany some dep- 
uties from their committee to visit the large manufactur- 
ing towns of Yorkshire for the purpose of promoting emi- 
gration to Australia for the unemployed operatives. The 
Chartists opposed the meetings held at Leeds for this pur- 
pose ; at Huddersfield, however, the deputies secured a 
patient hearing, which was much owing to the personal 
influence of Mr. W. E. Forster, of Bradford, who is con- 
sidered by all parties as the poor man's friend, so that his 
apj^robation of the views of the Colonization Society induced 
about ninety hand-loom combers to volunteer to emigrate 
under the auspices of the Society. Angus offered me a visit, 
and brought with him at my request his kind friend Mr. 
Forster, to spend a week at Lancrigg. Mr. Forster had 
been first made known to us by Mrs. Charles Fox, of Fal- 



MRS. GASKELL. 271 

mouth. On this occasion he brought with him a novel 
then just published, " Mary Barton." Mr. Forster did not 
know by whom it was written, nor did we know for some 
months after this, but we were at once struck with its power 
and pathos, and it was with infinite pleasure I heard that 
it was written by the daughter of one whom I both loved 
and reverenced in my early married life in Edinburgh, so 
that I had a twofold pleasure in making Mrs. Gaskell's 
acquaintance through Miss M. Beever, who knew her at 
Manchester, and who told me she always asked abovit me 
with interest. Thus by these seeming chances are people 
brought into contact with those who are associated with 
much that is of interest in their past lives. 

My dear Mary set off for her Haslar Home with the 
three younger cliildren, as their sister was unable to leave 
the good medical care she had at home. This separation 
was a great trial to us both, b^ut we submitted to it without 
complaining, and Miss Craik, who had joined me at Lanc- 
rigg, kindly agreed to remain with me till the end of March, 
and Angus agreed to remain with me for the winter. Miss 
Craik, the daughter of one of my oldest friends, proved a 
most pleasant companion to both of us. She has a most 
intelligent mind, always in pursuit of knowledga; great 
sweetness of temper, and quick sympathies. We had a quiet 
but by no means an uncheerful winter. 

Towards the end of March I was conscious of an ex- 
cessive activity of mind, even amounting to a painful 
degree of restlessness, like a person wlio, on the eve of a 
long journey, remembers to have left many needful things 
undone, and feeling the shortness of time to do them in, 
is in a continual hurry and state of unrest. About the 
end of March I used to awake every night with a distract- 
ing pain in my head. I certainly thought (notwithstanding 
Dr. Davy's opinion that the symptoms were not alarming) 



272 AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 

that I had not long to live ; and I bless God, humbly and 
fervently, that in the moments of extremest pain, when 
death would have been most welcome, I had a strong 
persuasion that the severe suffering He permitted me to 
experience was but a new proof of His Fatherly love and 
mercy. I had, through faith in the blessed promises of 
His Son, made my peace with Him, so that I had no fear 
of death ; but my heart had fainted under the terror of 
the bodily agony that commonly precedes the separation of 
soul and body, and the thought of parting with my dear, 
children was often overwelming. Now I perceived the 
goodness of God in sending me this sharp pain to wean me 
from life and disarm death of all its bodily terrors. The 
only desire of my heart was to assemble all my children 
about me, that I might see them once more before my 
mind was utterly gone. They came most affectionately at 
my call, and before long the pains gradually subsided. I 
got more sleep, and by this 23d of April, 1849, 1 record with 
thankfulness my comparative restoration to health. 

On the 1st of May, 1849, after this illness, I rose much 
refreshed. It was a glorious morning, the first day of svmi- 
mer according to my calendar. When I looked out of the 
window at six in the morning, a crowd of poetical images 
and recollections filled my mind ; and though I could not 
express them poetically, I set down my thoughts in measured 
lines as follows : — 

COMPOSED IN THE EARLY MORNING OF MAT IST, 1849, BY E. F. 

Hail! glorious day, in Spring's fresh verdure clad, 

Queen of the year, all Nature worships thee. 

Last eve, at twilight's close, I marked the swift 

And winged harbingers of summer days 

Flock to their clay-built homes beneath the eaves, 

Wearied with flight ; and at the morning's dawn 

They give thee welcome, while the " wandering voice" 



LETTER TO SIR J. RICHARDSON. 273 

Had travelled long, and far, to join his notes 

To the glad gush of song that hails thy coming. 

The little lambs skip with fantastic glee, 

And the green carpet with which earth is clothed 

Is spangled o'er with flowers of brilliant hue. 

Time was when l\ a happy village child, 

With sportive gladness ranged the flowery fields 

To gather garlands for this festive day ; 

The scented cowslip, purple orchis joined, 

And wild blue hyacinth, with primrose tufts, 

For votive offerings at each cottage door. 

That eighty summers have not dimmed the sense 

Of these pure pleasures — God, be thine the praise! 

{^Part of letter from Mrs. Fletcher to Sir J. Richardson. 

" 1849. 

"I little expected once more to feel the same deep interest 
in any event which my dear husband and I did feel in the 
French Revolution of 1789, before France had committed 
savage cruelty, and when all gqod men rejoiced in the destruc- 
tion of a grinding despotisrn, the fruits of which were bitterness 
and ashes ; but the Roman Republic has roused the same 
high hopes and the same deep interests for the restoration of 
that noble people. We hear that Mazzini is actively employed 
in exhorting the people and restraining them from acts of 
violence." 

, To her daughter Mary. 

" Lesketh How, ?,lh July, 1849. 

" I have to thank you for two most welcome letters. Alaa 
for Rome! I knew how you would feel when you read 
' The French in Rome ; ' but Mr. Price gave me some comfort ; 
he said, ' You may be sure the noble defence of the Roman 
people will have an imperishable influence on the future state 
of Italy. Formerly the Italians could not depend on each 
other : now that distrust is vanished. All true friends of 
freedom will understand each other, and it will be in vain for 
Austria or the united despots to crush the spirit that defence 
has manifested.' There is still great comfort in this hope, 
and it is nobler in the Assembly and the Triumvirate to spare a 
12* K 



274 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

massacre than to immolate thousands of innocent victims on the 
shrine of national independence. Those who have fallen will 
not have fallen in vain if their fate shall rivet the love of liberty 
and hatred of oppression on their surviving countrymen." 

To the Same. 

" Yesterday, about two o'clock, we drove off to call on Mrs. 
Gaskell at Millbrow, and found her, with her two friendly 
inmates and fine children, looking bright and happy. She 
has a noble countenance, intelligent and modest. She received 
us, as she always does, with that expression of heartfelt 
cordiality the Richardsons did at Chatham. She came back 
with us to dinner. The Palmses came to tea, and were 
delighted to meet the writer of "Mary Barton." 

To the Same. 

" Thou art thy father's own daughter. The lines are 
beautiful, full of high and noble feeling. ... I will not be- 
lieve that INIazzini has fled, but if he has fled from so base, so 
perfidious an enemy, it is not that he fears death, but that he 
has still faith in the good cause, and he may yet serve it and 
fulfil his high mission, for if there ever was a soldier that took 
righteousness for his breastplate, that soldier is INIazzini. 

" I expect every moment the car to be announced that is to 
take the children and me to Lancrigg, to meet Mrs. Gaskell and 
her party to take luncheon there. They are to go to Easedale 
Tarn after it, while I take repose. Dear Lancrigg! you are, if 
possible, more present to me there than anywhere else, and I 
cling to it."] 

Soon after her return to Fox How in September, 1849, 
Mrs. Arnold asked me to meet her distinguished guest, 
the Chevalier Bunsen, who, with his wife and daughters 
and one son, was staying with her for a few days. The 
very high estimation Dr. Arnold formed of the Chevalier's 
talents and goodness made us very anxious to see him. 
His countenance beams with benevolence, and his conversa- 
tion is full of good feeling, intelligence, and liberality. I 



THE CHEVALIER BUN SEN. 275 

was glad to hear him reprobiate the interference of France 
in the affairs of Italy, and speaking of Mazzini he said, 
" He is a man of very great ability, perfectly honest, and 
purely disinterested, but I do consider him a fanatic in 
politics." He thinks highly of the national character of 
the Italians, and very lowly of the French. " The French 
have no faith in anything ; they change their political 
principles as easily as the color of their cockade ; to-day 
it is blue, to-morrow red, and the next day tricolor." He 
seemed to think free institutions quite incompatible with 
Papal domination, and did not risk an opinion as to what 
might be the final result of the liberal movement in Italy. 
For Kossuth and his brave Hungarian compatriots he ex- 
pressed great admiration and sympathy. All he said was 
expressive of candor, liberality, and good faith, and I felt 
it a new obligation to Mrs. Arnold that she had allowed us 
to meet this excellent man. 

About three weeks later'we set off for Mr. Williamson's 
parsonage, near Leeds. It was here I had the very great 
satisfaction of learning accidentally from the schoolmaster 
that Sir John Richardson had reached Lake Superior on 
his homeward route. This cheering intelligence had ap- 
peared in the Times of that morning. He had not been 
heard of for more than twelve months, and I well knew 
the happiness this intelligence would convey to all at Haslar. 
We spent two days most agreeably with our kind friends 
at Headingley, and on Thursday evening reached Rugby, 
where I found a letter from Mary, who had received a tele- 
graphic despatch from the Admiralty with the joyful news. 
Next day she met me with a light heart in London, and 
we remained with our good friend Dr. Boott till we left 
town on Tuesday the 30th of October, for Haslar. On the 
Sunday I went to hear Mr. Gurney preach in Marylebone, 
called for Madame Mohl at Mrs. Reid's, and drove to see 



276 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 

our excellent old friends, the Miss Baillies, at Hampstead. 
Miss Joanna told us her sister was ninety, herself, I believe, 
being eighty-six, and both still enjoying life with thankful- 
ness. We dined that day with dear Mrs. Taylor, and ou 
the next I went with Dr. Boott to see the Nineveh marbles 
at the British Museum, and the model lodging-houses for 
the poor near St. Giles's. That district looked more dirty 
and unwholesome than any of the wynds in Edinburgh, 
and the cholera had prevailed there to a frightful degree, 
while out of fourteen hundred inhabitants of the model 
lodgings in its neighborhood there had not been one case. 

On our reaching Haslar the little boys clung round their 
mamma's neck with such eagerness that they fairly brought 
her to the ground on the threshold of her own door. 

On Monday, the 5th of November, Mary had a telegraphic 
despatch that the Hibernia had reached Liverpool. It 
was Sir John's birthday, and we had hoped he might have 
spent it with us, but he did not reach London till Tuesday 
night. Next day he had to report himself at the Admi- 
ralty, where he was detained some hours, and where he met 
with Sir James Ross, who had appeared there that day on 
his return from the Arctic Expedition. Of course we were 
all on the qui vive as the hour of the arrival of the train 
approached, and at eight o'clock on the 8th of November 
Sir John was joyfully received at his happy home. We 
all thought him looking better and younger than when 
he went away. There never were more heartfelt prayers of 
thankfulness than those he read to his family that night. 

\_Part of letter to 3frs. Arnold, Fox How, from 
Mrs. Fletcher. 

" Haslar, Nov. 8, 1849. 
" Some hours' detention at the Admiralty makes us doubtful 
whether our dear traveller may reach his happy home till to- 



LETTER TO MRS. BOOTT. 277 

morrow. In the meantime 1 begin a letter to you, which I 
shall leave open till I can tell you he is actually under his own 
roof. The lively sympathy Mary meets with from all her 
neighbors and friends here is really most delightful. Sir 
John Richardson has been prayed for by name in the parish 
church at Alverstoke during the whole of his perilous travel 
by land and water ; and the warm-heartedness expressed on 
all occasions by his sailor shipmates and brother officers here 
makes one really think there is a freshness of feeling in the 
sailor's heart that is not to be found in the same degree 
among landsnien. 

" How glad we are, dear friend, to hear of your delightful 
letters from all your absent sons ; but your dear William is 
my hero now, and you know I am nmch addicted to hero-wor- 
ship. There is not any one to whom I have mentioned the 
voluntary labor of the young soldier in the work of educa- 
tion that has not been struck with this energetic trait of his 
father's son. 

" A telegram has just come from the Admiralty to say that 
Sir John may be here to-night. 

" I write with many joyful interruptions from friends commg 
in with hearty congratulations. Good news circulates through 
Haslar with telegraphic speed." 

To Mrs. Boon, from Mrs. Fletcher. 

" Haslae, November 10th, 1849. 
"Before I rise I must indulge myself in thanking you for 
the sweet note I received from you yesterday. I do not know 
a holier or happier feeling than that of gratitude towards those 
we love and honor. Both Mary and I left your house with 
that delightful feeling. Our traveller arrived by the late train 
on Wediaesday night. I had my pen in hand to tell you the 
good news yesterday, but was interrupted before the post-horn 
sounded. He came in while his children were dancing to the 

tune of 

' There's nae luck about the house,' 

and you may believe his entrance did not spoil our mirth, though 
it gave it a more subdued and quiet character. He is, thank 



278 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

God, in perfect health; nor could we extort from him a single 
complaint of the hardships and privations he has suffered." 

"Haslar, January 30ih, 1850. 

" My dear Mrs. Burge, — I have wished to write to you, 
hut had not courage to enter on the subject uppermost in my 
mind — the dreadful loss your dear brother and all of you have 
met with in the death of dear Mrs. Alison. She was a rare 
creature, a very gifted woman. I always admired but never 
knew her well till after Dr. Alison's publication of his pamphlet 
about the poor, in the year 1840. I saw how very deeply her 
heart was in thai work, and how she was affected by the moral 
effect it produced ; for it was truly a revelation of the condi- 
tion of humanity which no one had previously believed in or 
suspected ; it led to great results, and she lived in the deep 
intei-ests her husband had roused in the thinking part of the 
community. She said she ' was a proud woman in seeing his 
labors so appreciated. ' Then came his illness ; and the fine 
spii'it that had been so elated was severely stricken, but not 
crushed ; her sensibilities were so acute that she suffered more 
from anxiety than most others equally attached would have 
done. I cannot regret she took that last journey to England, 
because she did it for Jiis sake, and the pulmonary complaint 
was too deeply fixed to be curable. We were much comforted 
to hear how calmly and how like a Christian your brother 
bears his great aftliction. Pray offer him our kindest and most 
respectful' sympathy. AVithin the last few days I have lost 
another friend whom I most sincerely lament — Lord Jeffrey. 
I cannot now think of Edinburgh without Mrs. Alison and 
Lord Jeffrey without a depression of spirit which I thought 
nothing less than a family bereavement would have occasioned. 

" My old age is cheered by the great haj^piness I see in this 
household. Since the return of my excellent son-in-law, Mary 
is one of the happiest of women. I never saw a mind more 
finely balanced than Sir John's ; with all the enthusiasm that 
led him, on a principle of duty and affection, to undertake his 
arduous expedition, he has the kindest, gentlest heart, and the 
most sweet and cheerful temper, with a fund of information. I 
hope to remain here till the first week in March, after which I 
intend, please God, to join the Davys for six weeks in London.' 



LORD JEFFREY'S DEATH. 279 

From Mrs. Fletcher to Mrs. Davy. 

"HASUA.R, 1st Febmary. 1850. 

" The death of Lord Jeffrey is indeed a inournful event to 
me. Though so little in advance of him in years, I had always 
considered him, a young man, young in the vigorous powers of 
his mind, and young in the gentleness and kindness of his heart 
— this last quality had been gaining strength by the exercise 
of home affections; and it is impossible to have seen him with 
his grandchildren climbing on his knee without loving the 
aii'ectionateness of his disposition as much as one always admired 
the brilliancy of his talents. If I, who have for many years 
seen so little of him, feel the sadness of this stroke, what must 
it be to his home and ' inner circle,' as he used to call that 
of his familiar friends. It is about fifty years since I first met 
him at James Grahame's; brilliancy in conversation was then 
his great attraction, and flippancy his great defect. It was 
probably the secret ambition of those who conversed with him 
that made them afraid of him; I know this from experience. 
He delighted in checking aspiring or ambitious women, as he 
used to call Mrs. Millar and me — ' women that icould plague 
him with rational conversation ' — and for many years of our 
early acquaintance I feared more than I liked him. Just in 
proportion as I aspired less, I gained more of his esteem and 
respect ; and latterly there was, as you know, a perfectly 
friendly feeling tacitly established between us. The country 
owes him and his coadjutors avast debt of gratitude for their 
fearless and noble advocacy of civil and political freedom in 
the great questions of liberty of conscience, freedom of the press, 
general education, abolition of exclusive privileges, abolition of 
the slave trade, and a hundred other subjects, where the eman- 
cipation of the public mind from the trammels of slavish pre- 
judice may be traced to the influence of the Eilinburgh Reciew. 

'* I belieA'e Jeffrey was a happier man in his age than in his 
youth, though I could not help thinking at the rime I saw him 
borne on the shoulders of the people when he was chosen mem- 
ber for Edinbui'gh in the winter of 1882, that that was the 
most splendid conjuncture of his fate. Many were the glad 
tears that were shed on that occasion, when the triumph of the 



280 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

good cause he had so bravely advocated was attested by the 
people's choice. He took it all so calmly; and he became a 
humbler and therefore a greater man the more he was dis- 
tinguished. I shall never forget the last earnest conversation 
I had with him, after having heard on all sides on our return 
to Edinburgh of his unequalled reputation as a Judge. I said, 
' I rejoice, Lord Jeffrey, to have lived to know that the Court 
of Session possesses the confidence of the country.' He an- 
swered with great animation, ' Yes, Mrs. Fletcher, but if it 
had not been for the indomitable courage of your husband, in 
the worst of times, when he and one or two more maintained 
the independence of the Bar, we younger men would have been 
trampled on and the Court of Session would never have en- 
joyed the confidence of the country.' I have registered this 
saying of Lord Jeifrey in my heart of hearts, and I would have 
you engraft it on that of your children."] 

March, 1850. — We spent a very agreeable evening at Mr. 
Wedgwood's, where we met Sir Robert Inglis, who recog- 
nized me as an old Edinburgh acquaintance, and Madame 
Pulzky, the charming wife of an Hungarian patriot, who had 
been the secretary of the distinguished Kossuth. He had 
sacrificed immense possessions in this noble cause, and this 
heroic woman -had followed him into exile. Her father, a 
rich banker at Vienna, furnished them with the means of 
living in very humble lodgings, and yet not a regret or com- 
plaint escaped her. She had with difficulty avoided the 
horrors of captivity in an Austrian prison with her three little 
boys. Their flight was arranged and accomplished by the 
courage of a gentleman who acted as her husband's principal 
steward, and who attended them in the assumed character 
of a common servant. Madame Pulzky is a very attractive 
person, very pretty, and combining much intelligence and 
energy of character with the most engaging gentleness of 
manners. We became well acquainted, and saw her often. 

At dear Mary's earnest desire I sat for my picture to 



MEETING WITH MR. ROGERS. 281 

Mr. Richmond, a most agreeable man and very distinguished 
artist. We met him at Mr. Gurney's, at whose house we 
spent a delightful evening at dinner. 

We dined also one day at Lady Davy's. She called one 
morning and politely asked me whom I should like best to 
meet. I said, " Rogers the poet," whom I had never seen. 
" Certainly," she said, " you shall meet him on Wednesday, 
if you will all come and dine with me." She kindly brought 
him, however, next day to call upon me, and I found Mr. 
Rogers most courteous, lively, and conversable. But a day 
or two after he was seized with a fit of the gout ; so Lady 
Davy said, to console me for the disappointment, she had 
asked Lord Lansdowne to meet us. I sat next the Lord 
President of the Council, whom I remembered in Edin- 
burgh above fifty years before, when he was Lord Henry 
Petty, and lived with Dugald Stewart. He had the greatest 
reverence for that excellent man, and spoke of his Edin- 
burgh life, and of his friepds Horner, Jeffrey, and Playfair, 
with much interest and kind-heartedness. 

I had the honor of a call from Mr. Cobden and his agreea- 
ble wife, brought by a very pleasing friend of Mrs. Gaskell, 
Mrs. Schwabe, who had eagerly sought Mrs. Gaskell's ac- 
quaintance after reading " Mary Barton." 

The last day we spent in London was one of the busiest. 
I went to take my last sitting at Mr. Richmond's, from 
thence to call on the Dowager Lady Grey ; found her mind 
as active in benevolent pursuits and as acute as ever, and 
was much interested in the wide circle of her philanthropic 
interests. She is a wonderful person of eighty-five. From 
her house we drove to Lambeth Palace, a striking old 
building. 

April, 1850. — We reached Lesketh How on the 8th, and 
heard distressing accounts of Mr. Wordsworth's dangerous 
state. He continued to sink daily, and died on the 23d 



282 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

of April, 1850, about three weeks after he completed his 
eightieth year. Although no one had expected his recovery 
for several weeks, it is not easy to describe the mournful 
feeling his death occasioned. It was a personal loss ; every 
one who had enjoyed his society and friendship felt thex'e 
was much taken out of life that was most worth living 
for. To himself it was a blessed change, for his grief for 
the loss of Dora, his only daughter, was incurable; and^ 
though his devoted wife had lost everything that made life 
precious when she lost him, yet such was the unselfishness of 
her love towar.ds him, that I verily believe she was thankful 
he had not been left to be the survivor. She watched by 
him day and night, and saw him laid in his grave on Satur- 
day, the 27th of April, in Grasmere churchyard. 

\_From 3Irs. Fletcher to her daughter 3Iary. 

" April 26, 1850. 
"Mrs. Davy had a message by James Dixon to say if she 
and Dr. Davy wished to see the remains they might go to 
Rydal Mount. They went accordingly. Dr. D. advised me 
not to go, he thought I might be too much excited. They 
■were both much struck by the likeness of the countenance, in 
the deep repose of death, to that of Dante. The expression 
was much more feminine than it had been in life — very like his 
sister. She bears this sad loss with unexpected calmness. She 
is drawn about as usual in her chair. She was heard to say, 
as she passed the door where the body lay, ' O death, where 
is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory!' Dear ]\Irs. 
Wordsworth has all the earthly support she can have; her two 
sons are with her, and heavenly support is mercifully given 
her. She is able in calm resignation to occupy herself with 
household duties much as usual. The funeral is to take place 
to-morrow. It has, as you truly say, been a great privilege to 
have seen this great and good man so nearly. I think it may 
be said of him ' that he did justly, loved mercy, and walked 
humbly with his God.' The funeral is to be very private — 



FUNERAL OF WORDSWORTH. 283 

only Dr. Davy invited from this house. Margaret, the girls, 
and I intend to drive to Grasmere an hour before, to Mr. 
Jefferies', and we shall go into the church before it arrives." 

To the Same. 

" 1st May, 1850. 

" Did I not, dear child, give you a detailed account of the 
funeral? If I did not, it must have been from the impression 
that Margaret had done so, when we returned from that 
mournful scene. We met Mr. and Mrs. Barker ^ on the way 
to Grasmere Church. They only heard of our great poet's 
death as they came the day before, and could not resist the 
desire to pay this last tribute of respect to his memory. 

" The same simultaneous feeling filled the old church of 
Grasmere with unbidden but most sure mourners. When Mrs. 
Wordsworth, supported by her two sons, followed the coffin 
into the church, I should not have recognized her figure, it was 
so bowed down with grief ; but she bore it calmly, and I stood 
opposite to her when she bent over the grave. When she was 
seated in the carriage on leaving the churchyard, Mr. Quilli- 
nan told us they feared she would have fahited. She did not, 
however, and after she returned home she resumed such firm- 
ness and composure that she joined them at tea, and made it 
for them. 

' ' Every Grasmere face you know of the upper grade was at 
the funeral, but I was sorry not to see any of the peasantry, 
he was so peculiarly the poor man's friend. James Fleming 
was there, and the Greens. I had intended to go on that day 
to Lancrigg, but really, after the solemn scene in Grasmere 

1 Present Bishop of Sydne;% and his wife. Mrs. Barker ■\Trites to the 
editor, after reading the Autobiography in 1875 : — 

"I must give j'ou a little characteristic reminiscence of dear Mrs. Fletcher, 
which has occurred to me. I think we were all at a picnic on the island of 
Windermere — I do not remember if you were there or not, — but we were 
about to proceed to luncheon, when a boat was seen approaching, in which 
were a lady and gentleman. My dear brother Allan exclaimed, ' Oh, look 
at these people ! What a bore it is, their coming here now 1 ' But Mrs. 
Fletcher said in reply, 'My dear sir, I never yet saw the person to whom I 
could apply that epithet,' and immediately went to the boat, and in her 
gracious way invited the couple to partake of the repast. They gratefully 
accepted, and proved to be an acquisition." 



284 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

churchyard, I could not give my mind to household cares and 
troubles, so we returned straight to Lesketh How and passed 
the evening quietly. I slept little that night, and in the 
morning I put into measured lines the thoughts that had kept 
me waking, which one of the girls is to copy for you."] 

THOUGHTS ON LEAVING GRASMERE CHURCHYARD, APRIL 27, 1850, 
AFTER THE FUNERAL OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 

We saw him laid within the quiet grave, 
Near to the yew he planted. 'Twas a day 
Of most rare brightness, and the little birds 
Sang no sad requiem o'er the hallowed spot: 
'Twas as they welcomed him to his last home. 
All Nature glowed instinct with tender love 
For him, her fervent worshipper, no more 
To chant her praises 'mid her mountain wilds, 
Her streams and valleys, " vocal through his song." 
There lives not one whose pilgrimage on earth 
Has been more blest, by God's especial grace. 
In stirring Heaven-ward thoughts in fellow-men. 
His was no narrow creed; he loved mankind 
Because God's law is love; and many hearts 
In loneliness and grief have felt his power 
Work like a charm within them, lifting high 
Their thoughts from earthlj^ aims and sordid cares 
To life's great purpose for the world to come. 
Sweet was the privilege of those who shared 
His daily converse, marked his blameless course, 
And learned the true philosophy of life 
Under his teaching, simple, but sublime. 
Peace to his honored memory; peace to those 
Who cherish fervently within their souls 
The beautiful reaUties he taught. 

\_Letter from J. BailUe. 

"My dear Mhs. Fletcher, — Your Thoughts on Leaving 
Grasmere Churchyard are so touching and so just that I cannot 
delay one moment expressing my sympathy. They do indeed 



ON THE CASE OF SOMERSET THE SLAVE. 285 

express the peculiar worth, simplicity, and wisdom of the man, 
and nobody will pass through that place of graves without 
feeling it deeply. William Wordsworth taught much in his 
own peculiar way, and we were not quite aware how much and 
how effectually he taught till his noble lesson was nearly draw- 
ing to a close. 

" Many thanks to you for sending us a copy of these lines, and 
for letting us know how his excellent wife, Mrs. Wordsworth, 
bears up under her severe affliction. She was a mate worthy 
of him or any man, and his sister too, such a devoted, noble 
being as scarcely any other man ever possessed. . . . 

" To have a grandson and his son returning from India on a 
three years' furlough is indeed an uncommon event. May this 
great-grandchild arrive in safety and be a blessing to you all ! 
The boy will think his great-gran dda me a young beauty if you 
look as well on his arrival as when I saw you last. . . . 

" The air is mild and deUghtful on our hill, and we breathe it 
with thankfulness, though in the course of nature we cannot 
expect, and should not desire, to breathe it long. 

"With all kind wishes^te yourself and your distinguished 
family, I remain, my dear Mrs. Fletcher, affectionately yours, 

" J. Baillie. 
" Hampstead, Tuesday Morning, Junellth, [1850]." 

The following letter, addressed to Harriet Martineau, on the 
subject of Somerset, the Negro boy, was written about this 
period, and was, I believe, inserted at Miss Martineau's desire, 
in some Anti-slavery periodical either here or in America : — 

Mrs. Fletcher to Harriet Martineau. 

" Lancrtgg, 1850. 
"Dear Miss Martineau, — It has been said that the 
noblest act of the British Parliament was that which gave 
twenty miUions of British gold to purchase the freedom of 
eighty thousand slaves in the British colonies. I think it 
was a still nobler act of national justice and humanity when 
in the case of Somerset, in May, 1772, it was decided by the 
verdict of a London jury that the moment a slave set foot on 
English ground he was free! 



286 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" In the summer of 1807, when I resided with my family 
in Noithumberhmd, I had the good fortune to meet with an 
intelligent old lady, Mrs. Judith Sharp, the sister of Granville 
Sharp. She gave me many interesting anecdotes of her 
brother. Though descended from an old family in the county 
of Northumberland, Mr. Sharp was himself a shopkeeper in 
Cheapside. In one of his early morning walks in the suburbs 
of London, he met a poor negro boy; and observing that his 
head was bound with a bloody handkerchief, he asked what 
accident had befallen him. The boy simply said, ' It was 
Massa did it.' On questioning him further, Mr. Sharp 
learned that the poor slave had been sent as a present from a 
slaveholder in Jamaica to his brother, a merchant in London, 
and that this London slaveholder had, in a moment of brutal 
anger, struck the boy a desperate blow on the head with some 
sharp instrument. The boy ran away, and had been some 
days begging in the streets, having no one to protect or take 
care of him. Mr. Sharp took him to the nearest hospital, had 
his wounds examined and dressed, left him under medical care 
for some days, and when all danger from the wounds was 
over, he took him to his own home, and bade him remain in 
his service, at the same time acquainting his former master 
where he was to be found The ruffian claimed him as his 
property. This was exactly what Mr. Sharp wished. He 
defended the negro's right to freedom before a jury in 
Westminster Hall ; and Lord Mansfield had the honor to 
record there the immortal verdict which became from that 
day the law of England. Not many days after that great 
event was known throughout all London, Mrs. Judith Sharp 
told me a lady M'as sitting in her balcony overlooking the 
Thames between London Bridge and the West India Docks; 
she saw a small vessel hurrying towards these docks, and 
heard a piercing cry, and the name of ' Granville Sharp ! 
Granville Sharp!' loudly shrieked as the vessel passed rapidly 
below her balcony. It instantly struck her — 'This must be 
a kidmipped negro ; ' and, without a moment's delay, this 
energetic woman went sti*aight to the Lord Mayor, made an 
affidavit of what she had seen and heard, and obtained a 
warrant to seai'ch every vessel in the AVest India Docks for 



FAMILY GATHERING AT LANCRIGG. 287 

him who had cried so loudly on Granville Sharp for mercy. 
After some hours' search, a young negro was found concealed 
under an empty hogshead, his hands and feet tied together, and 
his mouth bandaged. This victim of avarice and cruelty was 
instantly liberated by that glorious verdict of a London jury. 

" Oh that America would learn this lesson before it is too 
late to avert a servile war — that she would learn to ' be just 
and fear not.' Had George Washington lived in our days, his 
magnanimous spirit would have taken the side of Negro Eman- 
cipation as fearlessly as he did that of American Independence. 
He did not live up to that period of social progress which some 
of the enlightened Ameiicans of the Northern States have now 
reached. In his day, the mother country, who boasted herself 
free, was not ashamed to carry on the slave-trade, and to curse 
her possessions in the Southern States- of America by leaving 
them the legacy of that most foul and impious traffic. But 
a greater than Washington will yet arise in America, a man 
capable of making a great personal sacrifice of property in 
human beings, one that will not only plead the Negroes' cause 
in Congress, but will risk-'all personal consequences, and will 
hold but the right hand of fellowship to such a noble effort 
of humanity and justice. Such a day, I trust, is not far dis- 
tant in America, when Mrs. Chapman, you, and many others, 
who have labored in this most righteous cause, will find their 
reward in its accomplishment. — I am, dear Miss Martineau, 
truly and respectfully yours, 

"Eliza Fletcher."] 

I remained with my friends at Lesketh How till the 
4th of May, 1850, on which day Margaret came with me 
to Lancrigg and remained with me some days, leaving 
Grace and Sissy alternately to be my companions before 
Mary and Sir John, Josephine, and little Edward, arrived. 
It was a happy arrival ; Mary's cheerful countenance 
denoted a heart at ease, and Sir John and Josephine 
expressed cordial admiration of Lancrigg. Mary and he 
employed themselves actively in thinning the shrubberies 
a few days after they came. Josephine and Eddy explored 



288 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

their favorite copses, and Lancrigg was a scene of much 
enjoyment to us all. When, after three weeks, Sir John's 
leave of absence expired, he returned to Haslar with 
Josephine, and Mary and I had some weeks of tete-a-tete. 

[A large family gathering assembled at Lancrigg during the 
summer of 1850. The party from India arrived there on the 
llth August, her eldest gi'andson George Fletcher, his wife 
and child. It was then our mother first saw her little great- 
grandson Miles Angus. She says of him at tlie time, " Dear 
little Miles is the handsomest and most sweet-tempered and 
engaging child of his age I have ever seen." After we returned 
to Haslar our mother had a pleasant little visit from Alfred 
Tennyson, who spent that summer with his wife at Tent Lodge, 
Coniston. His visit was much appreciated by all at Lancrigg. 

From Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 

" October 16tl), 1850. 

"We were so fortunate as to meet our little postman Dove 
at the Town End yesterday, on our way to Coniston, and got 
from him your delightful packet. Pray give Sir John my best 
thanks for his sbai"e of it. Mr. James Marshall read it aloud 
to the pleasant coterie round the fireside at his own house. Lord 
Monteagle being an earnest listener, as well as Aubrey de Vere. 
The party at the Ma.rshalls' were. Lord and Lady Monteagle, 
Lady de Vere and her agreeable son Aubrey, with whose travels 
in Greece we have lately been much delighted. 

" Lord Monteagle is very animated and pleasant, and has 
much Irish humor. He spoke with enthusiasm of the won- 
derful energy of JNIrs. Chisholm, through whose individual 
exertions no less than 15,000 emigrants, chiefly Irish, 
have been sent to Australia, and once when she was accom- 
panying about 1,500 Irish emigrants through a narrow defile, 
up the country, she was told there was a fight begun between 
the Connaughtmen and the Tipperary boys, and that they 
blocked up the way, on which she speedily rode onward and 
told them they should not fight there, but if they 7nust fight, 
they should climb the mountain and descend into the plain 



LETTER FROM LORD COCKBURN. 289 

below and fight out their battle, as they would have room 
enough without obstructing their neighbors. They were 
heartily ashamed of themselves, and cheered their commander 
with a hearty cheer. 

" We were very sorry to find Mr. and Mrs. Tennyson had 
left Tent Lodge on Monday, as I hoped to see them again. I 
like to hear her talk of your husband, which she does con 
amove. 

"I like 'In Memoriam ' better the more I read it, but I 
want you beside me very much when I do." 

From Lord Cockburn to Mrs. Fletcher. 

"Edinburgh, November, 1850. 

"My deak Mrs. Fletcher, — I am very sensible of your 
kindness ; I am not just so strong as I was, but am getting 
rapidly better. The Life is, so far as scheming and preparing 
are concerned, advancing, but nothing has yet been done in 
the way of actual writing, or indeed could have been done, 
but I do hope to finish some^ Memoir of Jeffrey and his times 
which may not be unworthy of either. 

" The Scotch bull is expected to be roaring in a few days. 
Our Calvinistic souls are to be put under the charge of seven 
Bishops. Sawney will make a terrible uproar, because 
Bishops, no matter of what sort, are hereditarily odious to 
him. It was they who squeezed his thumbs and his legs a 
few years ago. Whatever the law or the policy may be, it is 
an unfortunate occurrence. It will revive sectarian hatreds 
and increase the difficulties of general education. But on these 
matters the human mind has not advanced one inch during 
the last five hundred years, and considering the nature of that 
mind it may be doubted if it will advance one inch in the 
next five hundred years. — Yours very faithfully, 

" H. Cockburn."] 

Lesketh How, 1st January, 1851. — How many mercies 

have I experienced since last. New Year's Day ! Oh that 

I were sufficiently thankful for God's loving-kindness 

towards me in all His dispensations ! I will not say the 

13 s 



290 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

last year has been without its trials, troubles, and disap- 
pointments, for who can expect to escape from them ? 

8th March, 1851. — It will be a fortnight to-morrow 
since Mrs. Joanna Baillie died, at the age of eighty-nine. 
It is just fifty years this summer since Miss Millar intro- 
duced me to the pleasure and privilege of her acquaintance. 
She was truly a woman of genius, original in her conceptions, 
full of brilliant imagination, elevation of mind, and turn for 
humor. Her taste was simple, and her affections strong 
and tender, with most unaffected and unpretending manners. 
She was much sought by the literary, the fashionable, and 
the learned world, and could count on her list of friends all 
the distinguished writers of the age in which she lived, yet 
she was perfectly unspoiled by the homage paid her, and 
loved her old friends with unchangeable affection. She 
died peacefully after a few hours' illness — Sunday the 23d 
of February. It is a satisfaction to me that Angus, being 
in Jjondon at the time, was allowed by her nephew, William 
Baillie, to take a cast from her face after death, so that the 
lineaments of her fine countenance may be preserved in 
marble. Angus has been superintending another work 
of art, a medallion of Wordsworth, to be executed by 
Mr. Woolner, and placed in Grasmere Church ; thus he 
has the privilege of assisting to perpetuate the memory of 
two great poets. 

Lancrigg, 25th August, 1851. — Some old friends have 
taken us on their way to the Crystal Palace. Among 
these were INIr. and Mrs. John Mylne and their two nice 
little girls. Mrs. Mylne read me a review she had written 
some years ago on the subject of female education. It is 
remarkably able, and I know few women who could have 
written it. Then we had the pleasure of Mrs. Stirling's 
delightful society for two or three days. There is a fresh- 
ness and animation, an originality and gentle-heartedness^ 



LAST EDINBURGH VISIT. 291 

about her that is most engaging. Our next beloved guest 
was dear Catherine Hughes, who, I verily believe, loves me 
like a daughter, and I feel her as such, more than any one 
out of my own family. 

On the 13th of September, 1851, Mrs. Taylor, her daughter, 
and I, set off on our Scottish expedition. To see my ven- 
erable friend Miss Millar once more in her own house, was 
one of the principal objects of my journey, and to attend 
Henry Fletcher's wedding was another. After I left Mil- 
heugh on the 19th, I reached Doune, where, at Old Newton, 
kind good Miss MacNab had provided every thing for our 
comfort. The profound quietness, the pure dry air, and lovely 
scenery, have agreed with me so well that I feel much better 
than when I set out. 

On the 1st of October we paid a most agreeable visit to 
our friends, the Miss Spiers', at Laurel Hill. There we 
found six amiable sisters living in the most perfect domestic 
harmony, and occupied in ^ioing good. 

On the 6th of October we left Old Newton, and reached 
Edinburgh, where, after gliding swiftly under the Castle 
rock and through the Mound, we found Henry Fletcher 
and Charlotte Monro waiting for us. Mrs. Taylor had 
parted from us at Dumblane, preferring a lonely sketch- 
ing tour in the Highlands to our wedding festivities. I 
was affectionately received at 35 Heriot Row, and saved 
from fatigue by the watchful kindness of our friends 
there. 

On Saturday I went with Angus to pay visits, not to 
the living, but to the family burial-place on the Calton 
Hill, where so many dear to us were laid at rest, and from 
thence to see the spot where our little darlings, Humphry 
and John Miles Davy, were laid in one grave. On 
Sunday evening Mrs. Stirling went with me to see the 
grave of Jeffrey. Nobody entered so entirely into my 



292 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Italian sympathies as Mrs. Stirling. She is delightfully 
agreeable. 

On Tuesday came the marriage. Dr. Alison kindly 
sent his carriage to take me to St. John's. There was a 
large party of Charlotte Monro's family and friends. 
Henry had only his old grandmother in her white silk bon- 
net, his uncle Angus, brother George, and cousin Mary. 
The much-beloved Dean Ramsay, long the friend and 
pastor of the bride, officiated on this happy occasion. 
The bride was becomingly dressed, and looked well ; dear 
Henry very interesting in the calm happiness of his 
deportment. 

My farewell visit to Edinbui-gh was not blemished by 
one dark spot or painful recollection. I had seen many 
valued friends for the last time ; all very, very kind, some 
very affectionate. I had the happiness to see Mrs. Burge 
and her incomparable niece, once more in tbeir former 
happy home, and of infinite value to Dr. Alison. 

I stayed a few days to rest at Lesketh, and on the 
8th of November set off with Mrs. Davy en route for 
Haslar. Most kindly received at Headingley Parsonage ; 
stayed there all Sunday, and reached Mr. and Mrs. "W. 
E. Forster's, near Bradford, by four o'clock ; admired 
the views from Rawdon, but still more the domestic peace 
and happiness that prevail in that happy home. Next 
day we went to Manchester, dined with ovir delightful 
friend Mrs. Gaskell, with whom Margaret, Angus, and I 
took up our quarters ; and we went to a great Hungarian 
meeting that same day at five o'clock ; it was held in the 
Free Trade Hall, and there were seven thousand persons 
present. Kossuth, the great Hungarian patriot, was hailed 
by universal acclamation. After a speech from the chair- 
man, and a much better one from Mr. Bright, Kossuth 
rose, and with extraordinary eloquence, notwithstanding 



KOSSUTH.-MRS. GASKELL.-THOMAS WRIGHT. 293 

his foreign accent and idiom, he delighted the audience 
with a clear straightforward statement of the wrongs that 
Hungary has endured from the House of Hapsburg, and of 
its determmation to shake off the yoke, if England and 
America, by peaceful intervention, would stop the encroach- 
ments of Russian and Austrian despotism. Kossuth's ap- 
pearance is very interesting; he is not above the middle 
size, . slender in person, but dignified in deportment, his 
countenance highly intellectual, the expression mild and 
firm, that of a man of genius. I sat there five hours, but 
when his speech was finished we left the meeting, and it 
seemed that my extreme old age served me in place of rank, 
so little was I annoyed by any pressure of the crowd, who 
considerately made way for me. It was delightful to 
witness the interest the masses in this great town of 
Manchester took, in the foreign politics of this great man, 
and it is only under the government of so much beloved 
a Sovereign as Queen Victoria, with a Liberal Cabinet and 
a reformed House of Commons, that such a meeting could 
be held with perfect safety, though Kossuth did not utter 
a sentiment to which a constitutional Englishman might 
not respond with perfect loyalty. In the days of George 
the Fourth, when great discontent with the Government 
and disaffection to the personal character of the Sovereign 
prevailed, it would scarcely have been safe. 

At Mrs. Gaskell's we had the great pleasure next day 
at breakfast of meeting Thomas Wright, a philanthropist of 
no ordinary cast of mind, profoundly pious and humble- 
minded, with the most energetic devotion to the principle 
of doing good. He devotes every hour he can spare from 
his employment, that of overseer of an iron-foundry, to 
visiting the prison, and doing all he can to reclaim convicts 
from their evil ways. He has been the means, under God's 
grace, of reclaiming more than four hundi-ed, and is so self- 



294 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

denied that he seldom allows himself more than four hours 
out of the twenty-four for sleep. He is a hale man at 
sixty-six years of age. 

On arriving in London I had the happiness to meet Mary 
from Haslar, and we had both the very great pleasure of 
finding Gracilla Boddington in the same hotel. She came 
to us the next morning when Mazzini was with us, and was 
much struck, as I had been formerly, with the likeness of 
his countenance to the St. Francis of Guido. 

[^From 31. B.'s Note-hook. 

November IQth, 1851. 

I had not seen Mazzini for several years until yesterday, 
and was never more struck with the increase of happiness 
resulting from having proved himself a man of action as well 
as a man of thought. The melancholy grace, the sickness 
of the heart, the indescribable look of suffering for others 
which had struck me so much six years ago, had disappeared, 
and he is now a man full of experience, patience, and hope, 
one fitted to inspire that confidence which he himself feels, 
and infuse life and hope into his country. The treachery of 
France to the cause of the people has unfortunately thrown 
him more than he himself desires into association with the 
party of Ledru Rollin, of whose character he has no high 
opinion, un grand gamin, easily led to good or evil by the 
impulse of the moment. He did not deny the position ad- 
vanced by Dr. Boott, that a popular movement in France 
was likely to lead to the most frightful excesses, that the 
feelings of the employed against their employers were most 
ferocious and bloody ; but it is evident that he feels and 
knows that things cannot go on in France as they are now 
doing, and he said, "We a little trust in Providence that 
more good will come out of the evil than we can at present 
perceive. There is indeed no one man in France to meet 
its wants, but I hope some man will appear to appeal to what 
is good, and save her from what we all so much dread." He 
mentioned two men in whom he had some hope. One was 



MAZZINI.- FOREIGN POLITICS. 295 

Carnot. He knew all the leaders of the Republican party, but 
had no confidence in any one but Ledru RoUin with regard to 
Italy. In speaking of him, Mazzini mentioned various little 
traits which we should call very French, when one considers 
the amount of suffering that must follow even the best revolu- 
tion. Mazzini said, Ledru Rollin and he were each smoking 
cigars, with a little dog on the sofa between them ; it showed 
signs of discomfort. " Poor little dog," said Ledru Rollin, " it 
suffers, let us put away our cigars." He said he was doing all 
he could to impress the Frenchman with his own views : " He 
is a Frenchman, and I always feel it, but he is the only hope 
for Italy out of itself. I do not want the help of FrancCj I 
only want them to let us alone, and that cannot be accomplished 
till the troops are withdrawn by a power friendly to us, as a 
defeat would never be forgiven by the French." 

Mazzini has no expectation of the day of Cavaignac or 
Lamartine coming round again. The first, he said, justly lost 
his influence by his unnecessary slaughter of the populace in 
the insurrection of May, 18J-8. He might have quelled it at 
once, but he allowed it ttf'go a certain length, to do the thing 
with greater military effect. This they never can forgive. 
Mazzini gave a shrug of decided hopelessness when Lamartine 
was mentioned, but he did not deal at all in personal invective 
even against the President. His mind seems too full of hope 
about Italy to admit of gloomy ideas about other countries, 
and one ought to place one's self in the Italian, not the French 
position, when one talks with him. The dungeons of Naples 
make as strong a case for the necessity of a change with all 
its attendant horrors as Dr. Boott's Lyons anecdote was felt 
by him to be a convincing argument for lea^-ing things as they 
are. Mazzini said Mr. Gladstone's letters had been of much 
use in this country in rousing the attention of the humane to 
the real state of things, and he considers Italy already ripe for 
a change, and spoke, half seriously, half in playfulness, of 
hoisting his flag on the Quirinal this time next year, and of 
his hope of seeing my mother there. When Dr. Boott spoke 
of his power of attaching others to himself, he said, "It is 
because I ti-ust them. They had been so long told they were 
a poor, wretched people, fit only to be slaves, that they began 



296 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

to believe it, but I gave them a new life by telling them they 
were men and brothers." He said a remarkable proof had 
been given of the attachment of the Roman shopkeepers to 
him when a great friend of his went there. She could not 
get any accounts sent to her. He spoke of Kossuth with 
much interest, said that they had long interviews with each 
other in London, four or five hours at a time, and that they 
understood each other completely. He rejoiced in the demon- 
strations then going on as a new feature in the English life, 
one which was much required. It is impossible to convey by 
notes an impression of Mazzini's conversation, so much of his 
eloquence depends on his look, his attitude, what he says and 
what he does not say, for a great man in full possession of a 
great subject is often to be quite as much admired for what he 
does not say as for what he does, and this one feels very much 
with Mazzini ; rancor and distrust and anger, even against 
evil, seem 4;o be extinguished in him.] 

On the 15th of November, 1851, Mary and I reached 
Haslar, and I have passed two months of great quietness 
and tranquillity, in the enjoyment of excellent health, re- 
ceiving the most constant kindness and minute attention 
to my comfort from dearest Mary and her excellent hus- 
band, while Josephine is always my ready and kind 
amanuensis. 

January, 1852. — About thirty friends and neighbors 
were invited to celebrate my eighty-second birthday, on 
the 15th of this month. Sir John, assisted by Sir Edward 
Parry, put forth his strength in enacting charades ; they 
had been experienced in this innocent amusement, having, 
during the long nights of an Arctic winter, often resorted 
to masquerades and pantomimic exhibitions to divert and 
cheer the ship's company in their dark and dismal abode 
amid regions of " thick-i ibbed ice." Music and singing 
intervened between the acts, and after supper Sir Edward 
Parry prefaced his toast to my health by a very affecting 



LETTER TO MRS. DAVY. 297 

allusion to the many mercies that had been spared to me 
in my long pilgrimage — such a speech as filled my eyes 
with tears and my heart with thankfulness. 

[ To Mrs. Arnold, from Mrs. Fletcher. 

" Haslar Hospital, January, 1852. 

"If it pleases God to spare you to complete your eighty- 
second year, as I have done, you will be surprised, as well as 
deeply thankful, that you have not been made to feel you have 
lived too long. 

" Dear Margaret told me joyfully you had consented to be 
one of her birthday guests on the loth, and your own dear 
letter of kind congratulations is tied up apart with those of my 
children and grandchildren ; for you know you became one of 
my children from the time you adopted me as a mother in my 
short solitude at Bilton in 1829, and you have never since 
disappointed the claim that adoption gave you to my love and 
gratitude. ... 

" I dare not trust myself Jio-speak of France, that self-destroyed 
country. I lost all sympathy with them when they allowed a 
government chosen by universal suffrage to send an army for 
the subjugation of Italy. That was an act of unmitigated op- 
pression and injustice. The submission to the coup-iT ilai is an 
act of national suicide, an utter extinction of all that can ele- 
vate or uphold the dignity or worth of man in his political 
relations. I never was so hopeless of Continental affairs ; bat I 
still trust that British statesmen will take warning, and, by 
timely extension of safe measures of reform in Parliament, 
ward off revolutionary dangers. I still put faith in Lord John's 
honesty of purpose and courage." 

To Mrs. Davy from Mrs. Fletcher. 

" Haslar, llh January, 1852. 

"You will receive this on your fifty-fourth birthday. A 

bleSsed day it was to me, and has been till this time. I well 

remember dear aunty bringing you to me when you were first 

washed and dressed, saying, * I have brought you a dark-eyed 

13* 



298 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

daughter,' and you opened your large dark eyes, the first that 
had been seen in our flock, and aunty pronounced you like my 
mother, from your eyes, and then you first nestled in my 
bosom, my little dark-eyed daughter. It was a day of 
thankfulness to God, and such you have made it ever since. 
May He contmue to preserve and bless you for ever and 
ever ! 

"We have finished the first volume of Southey's Life and 
Letters. We like his autobiography, but were disappointed in 
his letters. Oh how inferior to Cowper's letters! There is a 
want of the playfulness of youth, and so poetical a mind as 
his should have betrayed itself in the open confidence of friend- 
ship. He was so ' pure in heart ' he had nothing to conceal, 
but he does not seem to have any thing to tell but what is 
passing through his mind in preparation for the press. He 
overtasked himself as a literary drudge, and in his case above 
all others you see how unfortunate it was he had no other 
profession, and made poetry his working machine rather than 
his delightful recreation. I think some of his political enthu- 
siasm must have been suppressed. It is impossible, feeling so 
strongly as he did the public interests that occupied minds 
much less fervid and elevated than his, that he should not 
have written more eloquently on these subjects to his bosom 
friends than appears in these letters. I think the prudence 
and perhaps the prejudices of his biographer has induced him 
to suppress the political ebullitions of his mind from 1793 to 
1800." 

To Mrs. Davy. 

" Haslae, January 17th, 1852. 

"... I have so much to thank you and my dear oes ' for, 
in these packets I received on my birthday, that I know not 
what to say, except that I received them all with a grateful 
and thankful heart ; grateful for all your kindness, and thank- 
ful that God in sparing me to such a great old age had been 
merciful in giving me so many affectionate children and grand- 
children, and had extended to me the capacity of enjoying the 
1 Oes, the Scotch name for grandchildren. 



LETTER TO MRS. DAVY. 299 

many proofs of love and tenderness I am continually receiving 
from them." 

To the Same. 

" Haslae, February^ 1852. 

" Yesterday, the day being mild, Josephine and I went to 
visit Titchfield Castle, the birthplace of the daughter of ' the 
virtuous Southampton,' Lady Rachel Russell. I sat with the 
gamekeeper of the Delme family, an old man of eighty-one, 
who has been forty-six years in the family of the present 
owner, Squire Delrae, while Josephine walked about. He 
was garrulous about the greatness of the Delmes, but when 
I asked him if he had ever heard of Lady Rachel Russell, he 
said, ' No ; you see, madam, I don't know Latin, but I have 
been gamekeeper to the Delmes for near fifty years.' 

" He showed us a very accurate model of the ancient castle, 
two feet long, and told us it was made out of the corks that 
were drawn from Squire Delme's cellars by that gentleman's 
butler, and added with a sigh, ' Oh, they were grand cellars ! I 
knew them well.' He showed us an oak-tree four hundred years 
old ; saying that painters often came to paint it. We did not 
get home till four o'clock, when Mary had something warm 
ready for me, and I went to lie down till six, and was ready to 
appear at a dinner of doctors. I heard of another castle to go 
and see, Porchester, a Roman castle said to have been con- 
structed by Julius Caesar at- the time of his invasion. 

" To Porchester theu we must go, must go." 

In addition to the castle-hunting described in these letters 
during this last winter my mother spent at Haslar, we took a 
day at Winchester and visited the shrine of Jane Austen, with 
even more interest than that of VViUiam of Wickham. We 
talked over the happy days of reading aloud the delightful 
novels of Jane Austen, when the author was as little known as 
that of Waverley, and when some of our party gave our 'mother 
the name of Miss Bates, from the favorable view she took of 
all the human race and the events of the world.] 

The month of March was passed very agreeably at 



300 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Haslar, Mary and I taking daily drives from twelve till two, 
never being twice prevented by cold weather. We saw 
many lambs this month playing in the fields ; took a cold 
dinner with us one day to Shidfield ; it was a bright day, 
and we enjoyed it much. 

On the 19th of April Mary and I bade adieu to Haslar, 
and arrived at a late dinner the same day at Peasemore, 
travelling by railroad through a very interesting country, 
new to u^ by Reading, Newbury, etc. "We found Henry 
and his excellent wife in a beautiful cottage, the beau-ideal 
of a curate's abode in its combination of simplicity and 
elegance. I never saw a happier couple ; the absence of 
vanity and the cultivation of cheerful contentment are the 
human elements of this happiness, along with the confi- 
dence, esteem, and affection that subsist between them. 
This visit was a real happiness to me, as it afforded a 
confirmation of my good opinion of, and regard for, both 
parties. 

vSir John Richardson joined us at Lancrigg in May, 1852, 
and employed himself for several hours of every day in 
directing a laborer to make walks through the south copse, 
an extension of our rambles I had long wished for, but 
never could have accomplished it so successfully without 
his good taste and active engineering. Another field of 
his judicious improvements was in the high terrace, com- 
manding the most beautiful view of Easedale, till, at the 
end of nine dry weeks, came deluges of rain, and all out- 
door work was interrupted. 

On the 12th of August Jane Fletcher and her two chil- 
dren came, she looking delicate, but the children lively and 
in good health. I never regretted impaired strength and 
ability for exertion more than in not being able to play 
more with these dear children. When Mary left me, Mrs. 
Taylor's watchful attention to my health and comfort never 



VISIT FROM HENRY AND CHARLOTTE F. 301 

ceased ; she scarcely ever left me for half an hour. The 
extreme heat of the weather for some weeks affected my 
sleep, but I thank God my many restless hours were with- 
out pain or acute suffering ; and though I was less disposed 
for the pleasures of conversation, I enjoyed the visits of 
many friends this summer. On the 15th of September, 
1852, James Wilson and his family came to Thorney How. 
It is refreshing to meet an old friend with unchanged feel- 
ings of respect and kindness on both sides. It was also a 
happiness to us to receive a visit from Henry and Charlotte 
Fletcher, and while they were with us we collected as many 
friends and neighbors as we could to hear her sing. On one 
of these days in September, Sir Edward and Lady Parry, 
with five more of their i^arty, came to us from Keswick. It 
was a very enjoyable day, and I had most kindly letters 
from them both, proving that the pleasure it afforded was 
reciprocal. 

Christmas Day, 1852. — Two months have passed very 
serenely and cheerfully ; I could not have had companions 
more desirous of promoting my comfort and happiness than 
Angus and Miss MacNab. She is a most agreeable inmate, 
as well as an attached and faithful friend. 

A short visit from George before his embarkation for India 
has gladdened my heart, by his affectionate manners towards 
me and all his relations. 

I pray fervently to be more deeply sensible of all the 
mercies I have experienced during the past year. Some- 
times I have a painful feeling of being useless, and a mere 
cumberer of the earth ; but I know this is an ungrateful and 
unholy feeling, and I always combat it. It is not a meet 
preparation for " the company of saints made perfect ; " it is 
worldly and selfish. Lord, give me grace to resign myself 
wholly to Thy will in thankfulness ! 



302 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

[^Lord Coclcburn to Mrs. Fletcher. 

♦' Edinburgh, 12lh March, 1852. 

" A copy of Jeffrey's Life, which is to be published on Tues- 
day, leaves this to-morrow morning addressed to you. 

" There are some things not in it which you will miss ; but I 
found it absolutely necessary to confine it to purely personal 
matter, and there are some things in it which I hope you will 
like. 

"My object has solely been to unfold the character of our 
late friend, and by doing so, to give the pubUc better reasons 
for loving him than it had before. 

"How little soever may be thought of the first volume, I 
cannot doubt that the second, written entirely by Jeffrey, must 
impart undivided delight. If there be better letters in the 
English language, I have never seen them. 

" I wish I had an hour's dialogue with you on the state of 
the world. The general opinion in this Northern region, de- 
ducting Radicals and Tories, is strongly against the new Reform 
Bill, and seems to all good Whigs to introduce what is practi- 
cally universal suffrage, and this they think a thing only to be 
liked by County Tories and Town Radicals. 

" A terrible retribution surely awaits, and sooner than they 
think, the tyrants of the Continent. I, knowing the ever young 
benevolence of your heart, talk of these things to you, because 
I know they interest you. 

" Farewell. Though absent, be assured of the respect and 
affection in which you are held by all your Edinburgh friends, 
by none more sincerely than by me. — Yours faithfully, 

" H. COCKBURN." ] 

ON THE TJNION AND COMPANIONSHIP BETWEEN WORDSWORTH AND 
HIS SISTER, AFTER READING HER GRASMERE JOURNAL. 

BY MRS. FLETCHER, AGED EIGHTY-TWO. 

If in thine inmost soul there chance to dweU 
Aught of the poetiy of human life. 
Take thou this book, and with a humble heart 
Follow these pilgrims in their joyous walk ; 



LINES ON WORDSWORTH AND HIS SISTER. 303 

And mark their high commission, — not to domes 
Of pomp Baronial, or gay Fashion's haunts, 
"Whei-e worldlings gather, but to rural homes, 
To cottages and hearths where kindness dwelt, 
They bent their way ; and not a gentle breeze 
Inhaled in all their wandei'ings, not a flower 
Blooming by hedge-wayside, or mountain rill, 
But lent its inspiration, scent, and sound. 
Deepening the inward music of their hearts. 
She touched the chord and he gave forth its tone ; 
Without her, he had idly gazed and dreamed 
In Fancifn region of celestial things ; 
" But she by sympathy disclosed the might 
That slumbered in his soul, and drew it thence, 
In richest numbers of subduing power 
To soften, harmonize, and soothe mankind ; 
Nor less to elevate, and point the way 
To Truth Divine, — not with polemic skill, 
But sought from Nature and the human heart, 
With sacred wisdom from the fount of God.] 

June 9th, 1853. — Dear Catherine Hughes came to me 
early in April, and remained till the 2d of May. She 
was a most cheerful and aflfectionate companion, and helped 
me greatly in shaping the little garden ; she also exerted 
much energy and bodily labor, as well as good taste, in 
ornamenting the avenue with primroses, daffodils, and 
sundry wild-flowers. 

My causes of thankfulness to Almighty God are more 
numerous than words can tell, more in number than the 
hairs of my head, more unceasing than the breath I draw. 
Let my whole remaining life be one hymn of thankfulness, 
till I am permitted to join in that blessed privilege in the 
life everlasting. 

January 2d, 1854. — I have entered upon another year, 
the eighty-fourth of my pilgrimage. I am fully sensible of 
all my un worthiness of the least of God's mercies, but the 



304 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

want of continual praise and thankfulness weighs upon me 
most. A new cause of rejoicing occurred when, on the 
2oth of November, I received a letter from the Lord Chan- 
cellor (Lord Cranworth) telling me that on the urgent 
request of Lord Brougham, he had appointed my grandson, 
the Rev. Henry Fletcher, to the Rectory of North Stoke, 
neay Bath. My first feeling and expression was — Now I 
see why it has pleased God to prolong my life, that I might 
live to see dear Henry in a position of independence and 
usefulness. I was greatly pleased that Lord Brougham had 
obtained this for Henry, expressly on the ground of the 
strong claim given by his grandfather's labors in the 
cause of reform. 

I had likewise, about the same time, the comfort of 
hearing that Archibald had, through the influence of the 
Duke of Argyll, been appointed to the post of Lieutenant- 
Ordinary of the Devonport dockyard, thus placing him on 
full pay, and in a situation favorable to a married man 
with a family. Here was another great cause of thank- 
fulness. 

[ To Mrs. Fletcher. 

ON HER EIGHTY-FOUKTH BIRTHDAY, SUNDAY, JANUARY 15, 1854. 

" Dear venerated Friend, with welcome true. 
With trembling joy, we hail thy natal day, 
Bright with a Sabbath's sanctiby, and pay 
To Him, who bids another year renew 
This festival beloved, thanks largely due : 
For not in vain He grants thy lengthened stay, 
For which we've fondly prayed, for which we pray. 
Blessings still crown thee, and thy j^athway strew ! 
Still through thine eye thy heart sends forth its beams 
Of kindling love, more sacred hour by hour ; 
Still from thy chastened zeal, thy mind's young power, 
Thy steadfast faith, a holier virtue streams : 



LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. 305 

Thus blessing, thus be blest, till thou art given 
A birthday and a Sabbath both in heaven ! 

"R. P. G." 

Part of a letter to Mrs. Hughes. 

"I don't suppose Dr. Davy thinks there are any alarming 
synnptonis in my present case of influenza ; but, on the very 
borders of eighty-four, I cannot help feeling that I am walking 
through ' the valley of the shadow of death.' God be praised, 
I can say with the Psalmist, ' I will fear no evil, for Thou art 
with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Humbly 
trusting in the mercy of God through my Redeemer, I have 
no fear of death except the mortal conflict ; but my gracious 
God, whose goodness and mercy have followed me all the days 
of my life, will support me in that awful hour. I will trust in 
Him, whether I live or die, for ever and ever. I am going to 
rise, and go down to the drawing-room to meet my friends from 
Lesketh How. E_ jr_ 

^^ January, 1854." 

Letter to Mrs. Arnold. 

" Lanckioo, January, 1854. 

"Yes, dearest Mrs. Arnold, I did rejoice with you in spirit, 
for all the blessings that surrounded you on New Year's Day. 
Long may you be the centre-'and bond of so much family con- 
cord and affection. You well deserve to be so. 

" I think I told you Angus had given me an animated descrip- 
tion of the family party at Fox How, the day you kindly 
allowed him to join it. 

" I heard of you shivering (as you must have done) yesterday 
by poor Mary Fisher's grave. I hope you have not suffered 
by that act of sympathy with Mrs. Wordsworth and of respect 
for the departed. I long for Dr. Davy to give you leave to 
come some day in the warm carriage with Margaret. I lonf 
to hear all you have to tell me of your dear ones. 

"Mary writes to me cheerfully, full of hope that we shall 
meet once more. God grant it may be so. She is at the 
post of duty. Mine is to ' stand and wait,' supported by the 
' rod and staff,' the sure support of the aged pilgrim. 



304 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

want of continual praise and thankfulness weighs upon me 
most. A new cause of rejoicing occurred when, on the 
2oth of November, I received a letter from the Lord Chan- 
cellor (Lord Cranworth) telling me that on the urgent 
request of Lord Brougham, he had appointed my grandson, 
the Rev. Henry Fletcher, to the Rectory of North Stoke, 
neay Bath. My first feeling and expression was — Now I 
see why it has pleased God to prolong my life, that I might 
live to see dear Henry in a position of independence and 
usefulness. I was greatly pleased that Lord Brougham had 
obtained this for Henry, expressly on the ground of the 
strong claim given by his grandfather's labors in the 
cause of reform. 

I had likewise, about the same time, the comfort of 
hearing that Archibald had, through the influence of the 
Duke of Argyll, been appointed to the post of Lieutenant- 
Ordinary of the Devonport dockyard, thus placing him on 
full pay, and in a situation favorable to a married man 
with a family. Here was another great cause of thank- 
fulness. 

[ To Mrs. Fletcher. 

ON HER EIGHTT-FOURTH BIRTHDAY, SUNDAY, JANUARY 15, 1854. 

** Dear venerated Friend, with welcome true. 
With trembling joy, we hail thy natal day, 
Bright with a Sabbath's sanctity, and pay 
To Him, who bids another year renew 
This festival beloved, thanks largely due : 
For not in vain He grants thy lengthened stay, 
For which we've fondly prayed, for which we pray. 
Blessings still crown thee, and thy pathway strew ! 
Still through thine eye thy heart sends forth its beams 
Of kindling love, more sacred hour by hour ; 
Still from thy chastened zeal, thy mind's young power, 
Thy steadfast faith, a hoher virtue streams : 



LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. 305 

Thus blessing, thus be blest, till thou art given 
A birthday and a Sabbath both in heaven ! 

"R. P. G." 

Part of a letter to Mrs. Hughes. 

"I don't suppose Dr. Davy thinks there are any alarming 
symptoms in my present case of influenza ; but, on the very 
borders of eighty-four, I cannot help feeling that I am walking 
through ' the valley of the shadow of death.' God be praised, 
I can say with the Psalmist, ' I will fear no evil, for Thou art 
with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Humbly 
trusting in the mercy of God through my Redeemer, I have 
no fear of death except the mortal conflict ; but my gracious 
God, whose goodness and mercy have followed me all the days 
of my life, will support me in that awful hour. I will trust in 
Him, whether I live or die, for ever and ever. I am going to 
rise, and go down to the drawing-room to meet my friends from 
Lesketh How. E. F. 

^^ January, 1854." 

Letter to Mrs. Arnold. 

"Lancrtgo, January, 1854. 

"Yes, dearest Mrs. Arnold, I did rejoice with you in spirit, 
for all the blessings that surrounded you on New Year's Day. 
Long may you be the centre-and bond of so much family con- 
cord and affection. You well deserve to be so. 

" I think I told you Angus had given me an animated descrip- 
tion of the family party at Fox How, the day you kindly 
allowed him to join it. 

" I heard of you shivering (as you must have done) yesterday 
by poor Mary Fisher's grave. I hope you have not suffered 
by that act of sympathy with Mrs. Wordsworth and of respect 
for the departed. I long for Dr. Davy to give you leave to 
come some day in the warm carriage with Margaret. I long 
to hear all you have to tell me of your dear ones. 

"Mary writes to me cheerfully, full of hope that we shall 
meet once more. God grant it may be so. She is at the 
post of duty. Mine is to 'stand and wait,' supported by the 
' rod and staff,' the sure support of the aged pilgrim. 



306 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" I had a restless, feverish night, but am better since morn- 
ing. I can only add love, much love, to the children who are 
■with you, from your affectionate friend of five-and-tweuty years' 
standing. Eliza Fletcher." 

From Mazzini, after Ms Mother'' s death. 

1853 or 1854. 
" Dear Mrs. Fletcher, — It is very late that I acknowledge 
your kind, affectionate note ; but I acknowledged it then with 
a grateful heart. I could not write on the subject of your 
letter, but every word that came to me from friends in that 
hour of need did good to me, and is recorded in my soul 
to be never forgotten. My mother's death has left a blank 
in my life that nothing can fill. She was a warm patriot, 
shared in my belief, praised my efforts ; and the dream of 
my individual life w^as — that of meeting her once more on 
this earth in the joy of triumph — to be able to tell her, 
' You see that we have not been living separate and lonely 
for an illusion-' And this dream has vanished ; but if any- 
thing can soothe such a grief, it is the soft expression of 
true-felt sympathy for her and for myself, and of that I have 
had more than I ever dreamt of deserving. My own native 
town, and my second country, England, have become dearer 
to me since then. Do not fear that I shall now think less 
of my own life or embrace desperate schemes of insurrection. 
I feel my mother as near me as before — more sacred than 
before ; and I feel bound to avoid everything that she would 
blame or mourn about ; but even if I had not that feeling 
watching within me, I would never compromise in an impru- 
dent attempt the progress of my country, and the life of the 
numbers who would follow me, without calculating the chances 
of success." 

"Dear Mrs. Fletcher, — Your note to Miss C. and the 
article of Mr. Greg would make me despair about my ever 
being able to see England take a correct view of the Italian 
question. What practical hopes can you derive from Pied- 
mont enjoying pure constitutional liberty ? That the example 
will act on the other Italian provinces? There is no need of 



LETTERS FROM MAZZINL 307 

that. Italy is morally ripe, and the love of nationality is far 
more powerful in Lombardy, in Rome, and elsewhere, than in 
Piedmont ; or that the king of Piedmont will set himself one 
day at the head of the Italian crusade? That is impossible. 
No king ever will or can initiate a revolutionary movement, 
exactly for the same reason which makes the ambition of 
Louis Napoleon shrink from war as soon as its prosecution 
becomes impossible without a land campaign which would 
join the nationalities. The king of Piedmont cannot over- 
throw the tyrant of Naples, much less the Pope. It is only 
through a popular insurrection that such things can be done. 
It is only through a national movement that the Italian nation 
can be founded. Let us, then, continuously work towards 
such a movement. It is my aim ; the task of my life and of 
those who side by me. We do not agitate against Piedmont 
or its king. We endeavor to rouse the nation. But to 
rally, as you say, around the Piedmontese flag would amount 
simply to accept inertness as a law, to condemn ourselves 
to immobility, and to content ourselves with a fragment of 
Italy ; we really cannot ; we want Italian unity ; the king 
of Piedmont cannot give it to us ; we must try, therefore, 
to conquer it ourselves. It is only after a popular national 
movement that a path for the Sardinian king might open ; 
it was only after the Lombard insurrection that Charles Albert 
was enabled to march ; he never would have initiated the 
struggle. That is the tru^-^osition of the question. Fifty 
times we have said to all the sections of the Party, ' Adjourn 
all discussions, and work towards the common aim ; if you 
want the Sardinian monarchy to lead the crusade, let the 
crusade be. You must act before, then claim the help of 
monarchical Piedmont. ' The men who declare the nation will 
spring from the Sardinian monarchy are tout honnement 
renouncing all hopes and practical schemes. They have 
broken the unity of the great national party ; they divert 
the mind of our young people from the simple logical method 
which they ought to pursue to hopes which prove deceptions. 
Since 18f8, Piedmont has done nothing for the Italian cause. 
There has not been a single step in advance ; there has only 
been a dangerous duahty established when one single idea 



308 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

■was fermenting. The national cause would have been better 
felt and understood had the same level of oppression remained 
upon all the Italian populations. English people cannot 
understand this ; they believe that a question of nationality 
is solved in the same way as a question of liberty; it is a 
fundamental error. I have no party feeling, no personal 
hope or aim, nothing that can overcloud or deviate my mind ; 
I may, of course, be mistaken, but mine is a matter of deep 
conviction, and it is impossible for me to modify or alter it. 
Though sorry that I cannot on this point agree with you, I 
am glad, my dear friend, that your note has afforded me an 
opportunity of writing again to you, whom I love and revere 
more than my silence would indicate. May God prolong your 
life until the dawning of our national liberty appears I and 
remember that you have here a grateful and sincere friend in 

"Joseph Mazzini."] 



In March, 1854, I spent a fortnight with dear Margaret 
at her pleasant How. I continually blessed God to see 
her walk in His ways, an example to her mother and to 
all who observe her. Dr. Davy was most kindly attentive 
to my health. I missed the cheerful faces of the gii'ls ; 
but their amusing letters from Edinburgh, Archibald's 
weekly reports of his studies and progress at Cambridge, 
with my precious Mary's letters from Haslar, kept my 
heart in wholesome exercise. My warm-hearted friend, 
Catherine Hughes, returned with me to Lancrigg. We 
can go back with mutual interest over her earliest days 
to my excellent aunt Dawson's admirable and unselfish 
character. She was very fond of Catherine. 

Sunday, May 7, 1854. — Yesterday Mrs. Davy brought 
Mrs. Wordsworth to dinner. It is always a pleasure to 
see the placid old age of dear Mrs. Wordsworth. Hers 
has been a life of duty, and is now an old age of repose, 
while her affections are kept iu constant exercise by the 
tender interest she takes in her grandchildren. 



LETTER TO MRS. HUGHES. 309 

Mrs, Arnold has been called away to see her youngest 
son before his embarkation for Australia. She is a most 
tender mother and a most faithful friend ; hers is a char- 
acter in which it is not easy to find a fault. How often 
have I to repeat that most comprehensive prayer of the 
Psalmist — " Create in me a clean heart, God, and renew 
a right spirit within me," for I am too often " careful and 
troubled about many things " that are of no importance, 
while I fear I fail to "keep my heart with all diligence." 
I am humbled with the consciousness of making small, if 
any, spiritual progress, while I see my juniors suddenly 
called to their eternal home. The unexpected death of 
that truly great and good man, Lord Cockburn, has affected 
me deeply. His was a righteous life, and " a righteous 
God loveth righteousness." I am thankful he lived long 
enough to raise an imperishable monument to the memory 
of his friend Lord Jeffrey, in doing which his own great 
talents and love of freedom and goodness are identified 
with his subject. 

\_To Mrs. Hughes. 

" April 29th, 1854. 
"It would require a muchx longer scroll than I am able to 
fill, my dearest Catherine, to, tell you how much we miss you, 
and how often we talk about you, of your animated social 
qualities, of your alfectionate sympathy in all our thoughts 
and feelings. We like to trace you in all our vmlks and 
wanderings, and are sorry you did not stay long enough to see 
your primrose bed in the avenue in all its glory, for really it 
has come out much more gaily than you or I gave it credit 
for. The peony has made little or no progress since you'left 
us this day fortnight. Mary has had only one attack of head- 
ache, and I one very bad night, but am now pretty well again, 
as well as a sad heart will let me, for I received accounts of 
the death of a dear old friend yesterday — Lord Cockburn. 
Mr. Fletcher and I always honored and loved him for the 



310 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 

inflexible integrity of his character, and the warmth and benev- 
olence of his heart. His death will be deeply and widely 
mourned in Scotland. He has not left his equal behind him. 
You know he laid me under everlasting obligation by his just 
and discriminating sketch of Mr. Fletcher's character in his 
admirable ' Life of Jeffrey. ' I have not slept since four this 
morning, thinking over the many interesting traits of his char- 
acter, and the noble stand he made against the insolence and 
oppression of a corrupt faction fifty years ago. He died at 
seventy-six, in the full possession of his vigorous faculties. I 
am thankful to have dearest Mary with me when I received the 
shock of this sudden intelligence. It is a solemn admonition. 
He was seven years my junior. May God prepare me for the 
awful summons, come when it may. I know I am not vmre- 
membered in your prayers, dear child. — Your truly attached 
and faithful friend, E. Fletcher."] 

June 24th, 1854. — Nearly two months have glided away 
since I have found time to make an entry in this Journal. 
After two months of uninterrupted enjoyment during the 
finest spring weather I ever remember in this country, see- 
ing my dear Mary enjoying her garden and improve in health 
and cheerfulness, after her anxiety about Edward all winter, 
she was suddenly called away to attend Beatrice in scarlet- 
fever, near London. Not called away by her kind and 
most indulgent husband, for he was himself attending his 
sick child, and did not wish Mary to shorten her stay at 
Lancrigg, but her own sense of duty decided her to ex- 
change the delights of her mountain home for Beatrice's 
sick-chamber. She was right, and I did not dare to 
say a word to detain her. She happily found the child 
convalescent. 

It is remarkable how trials come in the very direction 
where they are most felt. If Sir John Richardson has an 
inordinate affection, it is in his paternal relation. He has 
always had not only a father's but a mother's love and 



MRS. EMPSON.-LORD JOHN RUSSELL. 311 

care for his children, — a patient, watchful, tender, and un- 
tiring love and forbearance that few, even kind, fathers have ; 
and his faith and patience have been severely tried bj their 
delicacy of health, and frequently by their alarming illness. 
All this he has borne with uncomplaining resignation ; the 
strength of his character is exemplified by his patient sub- 
mission to the will of God. 

I have been greatly delighted within the last few days 
with a speech of old Lord Lyndhurst, which reminded me 
of the manly and fervid eloquence of Charles Fox. It was 
not merely a declamatory exhibition of patriotic feeling, but 
a profound and heartfelt appeal to the highest moral prin- 
ciples that can actuate the government of nations, an indig- 
nant reprobation of the unprincipled and audacious attempt 
of Russia to trample on' the freedom and civilization of 
Europe. 

We have had most pleasing intercourse with Mrs. Emp- 
son. I never saw a more conscientious and devoted mother, 
and we all thought her the most unworldly person we had 
met with for a long time. No ambitious views for her chil- 
dren ; that they may be good and hapjsy is her only aim. She 
drank tea with us twice, and brought her children with her. 
It was a great pleasure to me to seek birds'-nests with Frank 
Jeffrey Empson, a very arniable and intelligent boy ; at ten 
years old he is well read in Shakespeare. 

On the 21st of August I had the very great gratification 
to meet Lord John Russell at luncheon at Fox How. . This 
truly honest and able statesman stopped at Low Wood Inn 
with his family, on their way to Scotland, after the fatigues 
of the session. Mr. Hodgson heard he was there, and 
crossed the lake from Brathay to ask him to address a 
meeting on opening a school at Skelwith Bridge. Lord 
John cordially accepted the invitation. Mrs. Davy only 
heard of this at two o'clock, and despatched her courier, 



312 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Mrs. Peel, with the news to us. We had not half done 
dinner ; down went our knives and forks, and up flew 
William to bring down the horses from The Brow, harness 
them, and drive with all despatch to Skelwith. We arrived 
just before Lord John began to speak. He looked at me 
with something like a look of recognition ; but it was forty- 
four years since I had seen him, when he was a youth in 
Edinburgh, and used to come sometimes with Mr. Playfair 
to our evening parties in Castle Street. Hard work has 
pressed upon him still more than years, and has given him 
a worn and weary look. He said he believed good teach- 
ing to be more important than the number of schools, for 
as is the schoolmaster so will be the school. He quoted 
a schoolmaster of great experience, who recommended a 
spacious playground. " And here," said Lord John, " your 
pupils have the mountains for their playground." He paid 
a deserved tribute of respect to the memory of Dr. Arnold, 
and when afterwards told that his widow was in the room, 
said, " May I be introduced to her ? " She invited him to 
luncheon the Monday following, and had the great kindness 
to ask Margaret and me to meet him. I was gratified to 
find he had not forgotten our former acquaintance in Edin- 
burgh. He spoke of those days with much interest, of Play- 
fair and Dugald Stewart especially. When 1 told him Lord 
Cockburn's son-in-law, Mr. Cleghorn, had lately told me 
Lord Cockburn had left an historical account of Scotland, in 
what might be called the reign of terror, his face lighted up 
with a radiant smile, and he said, " Yes, even Dugald 
Stewart was afraid," adding, " No man but Cockburn could 
have done it ; we sent for him to consult him about the 
Reform Bill for Scotland." Lord John is a man of few 
words, but I did not feel that there was anything of hauteur 
or repulsiveness in his demeanor. There is not a shade of 
vanity or egotism about him. 



SPRINGFIELD LODGE. 313 

[During the winter of 1854-55, it was thought best by 
all her children, as well as by herself, that our mother should 
be nearer medical advice during the cold season than she was 
at Lancrigg, and near those who could more easily reach her 
from Lesketh How and Fox How. 

During the period of the Crimean War she felt most keenly 
both for the country and individual friends. She had taken a 
most active part in promoting the association of ladies at 
Grasmere the preceding winter in aid of the comforts to be 
sent to the wounded men ; and she was able, by her abounding 
sympathy, to cheer the anxiety of the young wife of a most 
deserving soldier, who had come to spend the time of her 
husband's absence in the Crimea with her father at Grasmere. 
The husband of this person was then a sergeant, and he distin- 
guished himself so much by conduct and bravery that an offi- 
cer's commission was offered to him, and a request at the same 
time from the officers of his regiment that he should remain in 
it. His grateful wife has often told me since that she does not 
know how she could have got through that time but for the 
" dear old lady at Lancrigg." She took all her husband's let- 
ters to, read to her, and they cried over them together, and much 
was explained to her about the war. I fear I always felt in this 
war, as in most others, like old Kaspar — that " what they killed 
each other for I never could make out." I saw my mother 
settled at Springfield Lodge, a good house, nearly opposite 
the gate at Lesketh How.^, Before I returned to Haslar her 
favorite friend JMiss Mac'^ab came to spend the winter with 
her there.] 

Springfield Lodge, 10th January, 1855. — I have much 
reason to rejoice at having come to live so near Lesketh 
How. Springfield has agreed with me in all respects, and 
I have been cheered within the last ten days by letters 
telling me of Archibald's appointment to the command of 
a gunboat in the Black Sea. May he be preserved in the 
day of battle, and may he be enabled to do his duty, and, 
if occasion serve, to distinguish himself in his country's 
service. 
14 



314 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I never in my long life remember anything like the 
national gloom and almost despondency, increased by the 
accounts of the miserable condition of our brave troops in 
the Crimea. 

\_Part of letter from Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 
"Springfield, January lOlh, 1855. 

"I sit down boiling with indignation against the inhabi- 
tants of Portsmouth and its vicinity, for not giving a more 
fitting reception to the maimed and mutilated men who came 
home in the Himaiaya. 

"I have just been reading that article in the Evening Mail, 
describing the shameful neglect these brave men experienced; 
and beg you will write, if possible, to contradict such a report 
of national ingratitude and want of all right feeling, not only 
in ofiicials but in the whole mass of the people, who ought to 
have poured out and vied with each other in proving their 
sense of the strong claim these brave men had upon their 
sympathy. I can imagine, though I cannot forgive, the mis- 
erable jealousy and little formalities which would prevent 
naval officials from taking any active part in disembarking 
military men, otherwise we know dear Sir John would have 
been foremost to help them, and I wonder you, dearest Mary, 
were not there; I am sure your old mother would have gone 
down to the jetty, in defiance of all military etiquette, to hail 
these poor fellows." 

Sir John Richardson^ s reply to Mrs. Fletcher. 

"January, nth 1855. 
" T read with much interest your sound and hearty burst of 
indignation on reading the Time,i' account of the landing of 
the invalids from the Himalaya. There is more on the same 
subject in the papers of to-day, and, indeed, such occurrences 
are, I fear, almost inseparable from war, and from the peculiar 
organization of our boasted civilization. Boards and bodies 
are constituted for particular duties, and everything would be 
deranged, and matters rendered much worse, if their action 
were interfered with by bystanders. 



LETTERS. 315 

"I did not hear of it till this morning, and having occasion 
to be in the dockyard to-day, I inquired about the cause of 
delay, and leai-ned that the officers of the Himalaya, being of 
the merchant service, had not sent notice of the ship coming 
into harbor to the Governor of the garrison, from whose office 
the orders for the landing and directions for fatigue-parties 
would have issued. Pending the arrival of these the tide was 
falling, and the draught of water of the Himalaya being very 
great, her officers were desirous of drawing off from the jetty 
into deeper water, and therefore hurried the sick on shore 
with their baggage, which had to be inspected by the Custom- 
house authorities. 

" The greater part of the Himalaya's passengers were women 
and children, and the helplessness of the class that accompany 
the army would scarcely be believed were it not witnessed ; 
cleanliness and order are out of the question, and I can well 
believe that the deck was filthy beyond description. A mer- 
chant seaman, improperly sent on shore in a helpless condition, 
was hawke'd about the sti'eets until he found an asylum in the 
workhouse, where he died next morning. To-day a much 
larger body of invalids were on board the Avon, alongside the 
wharf. There was no want of proper officers to attend to 
them, but they were kept judiciously on board until everything 
was ready, the ship clean within, and the invalids cheerful and 
content with their treatment. The more helpless had their 
dinners on board, and were taken to the Army Hospital in 
omnibuses, cabs, and bearers ; while the greater number were 
directed to sleep on board, and to go next morning to Chatham. 
The Sampson has also brought invalids, and I suppose that 
now we shall have a continual influx, till between twenty and 
thirty thousand of our grand army come home disabled by 
sickness or wounds." 

Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 

" Springfield, February 9th, 1855. 
" I was in hopes your last letter, received yesterday, would 
have brought the decision of the Admiralty resj^ecting Sir John's 
appointment. I admire his and your composure about it, and 



316 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I am astonished at my own ; for, without feeling less interest 
in all that relates to his and your health and happiness, I feel 
less occupied about the improved position this office would 
afford you than I should have done some years since. I dare 
not hope that this proceeds from my being less worldly-minded, 
but I think extreme age has blunted the keenness of my per- 
ceptions and desires. 

" The late providential event, which surely must paralyze the 
whole Russian Empire, while it gives light and hope to the 
rest of the world, I hope and pray may be met by the Allies 
in a right spirit — I mean in a Christian spirit — a moral and 
chivalrous spirit. Our arch-enemy ^ has been stricken down, 
not by the strength of hostile armies, not by the energy or 
exertion of political combinations, but by the hand of God 
Himself ; and we should not presume on this manifestation of 
justice and mercy by proudly demanding more stringent terms 
of peace now than we should have demanded of the author of 
our national calamities. We should show our sense of this 
providential interposition by our moderation and sense of 
justice, not by proud defiance, or by any act that can prolong 
the unhappy contest in which we are engaged. I would fain 
hope that this event may lead to an armistice, and prevent that 
greatest of horrors — the storming of Sebastopol. " 

The first part of this letter relates to the office just then 
vacated by the retirement of Sir William Burnett, Head of the 
Medical Department of the Naval service. Sir John Richard- 
son sent in his claims for the office ; but a junior officer was 
appointed, on which my husband, feeling that he retarded the 
promotion of those under him at Haslar Hospital, retired from 
his active public service, and henceforth made Lancrigg his 
home. The first summer after his retirement we spent in 
Scotland, chiefly in the beautiful neighborhood of Achray and 
the Trossachs, and joined my mother in the beginning of 
winter, 1855-56, at Lancrigg. 

1 The Czar Nicholas. 



LETTERS. 317 

To her daughter Mary. " 

" Springfield, March 21s<, 1855. 

"I can but write you a line this morning, for you know 
better than I can tell you how much real sympathy I feel for 
Sir John and you on this sad occasion, knowing as I do that 
in the natural grief you both experience in the loss of so very 
dear an object of tender love, you will bless God for his deliver- 
ance from a life of so much suffering, and in the unspeakable 
blessedness he is now enjoying. ' In my Father's house are 
many mansions.' His spirit was well fitted to inhabit that 
nearest to his Saviour, for I think it was the most loving little 
heart I have ever known. 

" This I imagine will be the funeral day. Thank dear Jo- 
sephine for her note, received yesterday ; it was very sweet 
and touching. Could not Sir John ask leave to come down 
with you, if it were but for a week? I think the change 
might do him good. I know his entire submission to the will 
of God, and that you will not leave him till you can do it con- 
sistently with your duty. I am well cared for from Lesketh 
How, but I never more ardently wished to see you. I hope 
dear Mrs. Kendal will be with you all this sad day. I liked 
to hear of the primroses coming from the Isle of Wight, from 
dear Mrs; Stott, and his father placing them round the little 
still pale face. May God support and bless you all. 

^ "E. F."] 

18th March, 1855. — Since my last entry in this journal 
I have entered on my eighty-sixth year, and have most 
abundant cause of thankfulness for the many blessings that 
attend this long pilgrimage — for health of body and mind, 
and for the most affectionate and tender care I experience 
from those near and those absent. 

Public affairs continue gloomy, and I never remember a 
time of such painful excitement. Our soldiers and sailors 
are men of indomitable courage, but we seem to want a 
Wellington and a Nelson. The compassionate and generous 
feeling of the country towards the sufferers is beautiful, and 



318 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the self-devotion of Miss Nightingale and her associates is 
above all praise, and marks an epoch in the history of our 
beloved country. Towards our Lady the Queen I have a 
feeling of profound loyalty ; she is both the Queen and the 
fi'iend of her suffering people. 

April 11th. — To-morrow I expect my Mary. She has 
suffered much since I parted from her in the illness and 
death of her darling little Edward, whom she had adopted 
with a true mother's fondness. 

[I joined my dear mother at Springfield at the time she 
expected nie, and, while Lancrigg was preparing for us, re- 
mained with her there. Mrs. Davy records in her Note-book 
at this time the following impression of her good looks and 
spirits before they set off on a little foreign tour on the 25th 
of April of this spring : — • 

From Mrs. Davy^s JVofe-hook. 

" We all ran down to Springfield to have the last words and 
kisses from dearest Gran. ; but so active was her love and 
sympathy with our outset, that just as we were getting into 
the carriage, at 12 o'clock, April 25th, she, with aunt Mary, 
appeared before our door. It was a sweet, genial morning, but 
Gran.'s face looked more sweet and genial still." 

To her daiighter Mary, in the Highlands. 

"Lancrigg, 1855. 
" I had a great treat on Saturday morning, for half an hour. 
Our dear Mrs. Arnold brought Arthur Stanley to see me. It 
does one's heart good to see a man devoting all his powers to 
his Master's service. He is so animated, so Agreeable, so un- 
spoiled by his high reputation, so child-like in simplicity, and 
80 vigorous in his conceptions, and candid in his constructions. 
We had only a few words about Lord John Russell as he was 
getting into the car. He said ' it was too wide a field to enter 
upon, that Lord John had committed some mistakes; but I 
believe,' he said, ' that you and I shall live to see him again 



LAS2' MONTH OF HOUSEKEEPING. 319 

Prime Minister at the desire of the people.' The car drove off, 
leaving me this drop of comfort. 

" September, 1855." 

Lancrigg, 18th September, 1855. — In May it p]eased 
God to bring me through a severe attack of bronchitis, 
and I am thankful to say I have been in better health since 
than I was before my illness. The tender attentions I 
received from all my children made me feel that I had not 
lived too long. 

I made few new acquaintances this summer, but was 
cheered by the visits of our dear old friend, James Wilson. 
There is something inexpressibly reviving in the company of 
one who recalls former happy reminiscences. 

October 29th, 1855. — This is my last month of house- 
keeping. I never liked the details of that vocation, and 
hence I always enjoyed the freedom and ease of living at 
an inn. Henceforward Mary's inn at Lancrigg will be my 
headquarters. Goodness and mercy have followed me all 
the days of my life. Pray God I may never lose the bless- 
ing of a thankful spirit, and that all my children, when 
they lay me in " our grave," ^ may be thankful that I end my 
long pilgrimage in peace among them. I trust in the mercy 
of God that, through the^merits of Christ, lie will take me 
to his everlasting kingdom of righteousness when I can no 
longer be useful or satisfactory to those who love me best 
on earth. 

January 2d, 1856. — It has pleased Almighty God to per- 
mit me to live to see another year, and to bless me with 
more health and contentment of mind than I have expe- 
rienced for several years past. 

March 14th. — Public affairs look most promising in the 
prospect of peace. How true is that sentence in one of 

1 We chose the spot together, and she always called it " our grave." 



320 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

the beautiful Collects of our Church's ritual, " The hearts of 
Kin<fs are in thy rule and governance." The fate of nations 
is determined by that will which can alone bring good 
out of evil. 

I am rejoicing in George's appointment at Chittagong 
as a proof of his deserts, and clieercd by Sir E. Tjyons' 
excellent report of Archibald's professional character. 

August 2d, 1856. — The deep interest I have taken in 
Lord Cockburn's " Memorials " has been a new era in ray 
existence. Tiiis dtjlighti'ul book has refreshed my spirit, 
improvcid my health, and, I verily believe, will continue to 
cheer and Icngtlicn my life. 

August IGth. — Our domestic sorrows have been increased 
by the increasing sufferings of poor Josephine. She affords 
a remarkable example of patience, employing every waking 
hour of the day, and even sometimes at midnight, in read- 
ing, using her needle, or knitting. She is always cheerful ; 
and once, when J ventured to express sympathy in hsr 
sufferings, she gently rebuked me, and, with a placid smile, 
said, " Yes, but you know whom the Lord loveth lie chas- 
teneth." Sir .John's great sorrow on her account is sup- 
ported with manly as well as with Christian resignation. 
lie sits in a room adjoining that which she occupies, and 
through the open door he can see and hear her while he 
employs himscU' in writing a scientific article of consider- 
able resi>arch in natural history, lie gets books from the 
British Museum. JNIy dearest Mary neglects no }iart of 
her duties to me and the sick-room, and is mercifully sup- 
ported under her great trials. 

[ To Mrs. Arnold. 

" October \0ili, 1856. 

" I cannot toll you how much we all enjoyed the pleasure 
Mr. Stanley's visit gave us yesterday; I only regretted dear 



DEATH OF JOSEPTUNE lilCnAlWSON. 321 

I' 
Mary was not Ium-o to share it with us. AVo accoin]Kiiii(>d him in 
his most intorcsliiiij; Scottisii tour, from the V('iu'ra.l)le sitcol' St. 
Andrews and the liistorical reeords of the ohl Covcmiiitcrs to 
the romantic haunts of Burns and tho grave of Helen Walker.' 

" Then his exceeding admiration of Edinburgh, tracing its 
real resemblance in national features to tho Athens of ancient 
Greece; his liberal view of the Scottish Church and Church- 
men; and above all, his estimation of the intelligence of tho 
Scottish peasantry. All this, given with liis own peculiar 
earnestness and simpHcity of manner, made us exclaim, when 
the door closed upon him, ' Well, there is but cue Arthur 
Stanley in the world.* 

" I think much of you, my dear friend, and rejoice that you 
will have all your daughters with you to-ilay."] 

October 20th, 1856. — It was judged best for mo to go 
to Leskcth How as j)oor ,Iosoi)hine's last days drovv near ; 
so in the beginning of Se|)tc!mber, after Dr. and Mrs. Davy 
had set off on their Highland tour, Mrs. Taylor and 1 
went to stay with the dear girls, .loscphine died without 
a struggle on the evening of the Hth Septend)er, and a moro 
pure, patient, uncomplaining s})irit never went to its ever- 
lastuig home. 

[Parts of one or two of my mother's letters to a correspond- 
ent in Edinburgh she nnieh-Vidued, of a younger generation, are 
inserted hero, on a subject near her heart : — 

Mrs. Fletcher to Montgomery Bell, Esq. 

"./««(' 5^^, 185G. 
"My dicar Mr. Bkli,, — Your kind letter, received this 
morning, has anticipated my intention of writing to tell you 
how exceedingly I and all my family have been delighted with 
Lord Cockburn's 'Memorials.' On seeing the book adver- 
tised, I wrote to Messrs. Jilack to send me a copj' the momoiit 
it was out, and it arrived a few days ago. I don't know when 

1 Jeanie Deans. 

14* IT 



322 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 

I have been so much refreshed and exhilarated as in reading 
it. The passage you transcribe was particularly gratifying to 
me; it is so true and so characteristic of him whom it describes. 
Lord Cockburn is, indeed, most happy in the truth of his por- 
traits. He might have dwelt more fully on the hardships and 
diificulties that beset the few Whig members of the Bar be- 
tween the years 1791 and 1800. ... It is a dehghtful book; 
and since there is no other literary monument of Lord Cock- 
burn's great ability and integrity, these ' Memorials ' will attest 
them. 

To the Same. 

1856. 

" The more I reflect on the great public good the late Lord 
Cockburn did in his lifetime, and the great value of ' Memorials 
of His Time,' lately published, the more strongly I am con- 
vinced of the debt due by his countrymen to his memory. 
Now, I do not know whether any monument has been or is 
likely to be erected to his memory in Edinburgh; if not, it 
occurs to me that with the approbation of his family, it would 
be well for the friends of Reform to raise such a sura, by sub- 
scription, as would afford an annual prize of a gold medal to 
such a scholar of the New Academy (the Institution which 
originated with Lord Cockburn) as should write the best Essay 
on Constitutional Freedom, or other historical subjects, and be 
most approved by the Directors of the Academy, and that such 
a prize should be called the Cockburn Medal. This idea has 
haunted me ever since I read the ' Memorials.' 

" Your views of the public results of this war delight me 
exceedingly — the moral and religious amelioration and social 
improvement that may arise out of it. God grant your hopes 
may be prophetic; I am a willing disciple of your hopeful 
school; to despair of a just cause is to deny a wise and good 
Providence. I do not envy those who can read of our good 
Queen reviewing her noble fleet with dry eyes; it is good for 
her children to have heard the cheers of her gallant men at 
Spithead." 

Lancrigg, 15th January, 1857. — It has pleased our most 



ILLNESS OF ELIZABETH DAVY. 323 

gracious God to permit me to enter on this eighty-eighth 
year of my long life in better health, and more freedom 
from infirmity in mind and body, than is usual at so ad- 
vanced an age. I have no doubt my life has been pro- 
longed, as I am sure my happiness has been greatly pro- 
moted, by the family arrangements that have been made, 
in my freedom from household cares. 

March 12th. — I have passed nearly three months of this 
new year in surprising health and happiness, feeling the in- 
firmities of my very advanced age, but feeling in a still 
greater measure the mercy of God in preserving to n^e my 
faculties of mental enjoyment in no common degree ; feeble- 
ness of limbs, and some degree of deafness, remind me of old 
age, but my heart is I think as young as ever. 

April 24th, 1857. — Since my last entry in this Journal 
I have experienced the greatest anxiety on account of the 
alarming illness of my dear grandchild, Elizabeth Davy. I 
had presumptuously hoped that none of those I tenderly love 
might be called to suffer deejaly before I am to be called 
hence ; but our merciful Father has seen fit to give me 
another trial of faith and patience. 

May 24th, 1857. — We s^w dear Lizzie the day after her 
parents and Grace brough.t her home ; so sadly changed 
was her appearance that^ I should scarcely have known her. 
She did not keep her bed entirely for more than a week, 
but symptoms of rapid consumption appeared, and her 
strength sank rapidly. There was a great increase of 
gentleness, lowliness of mind, and great consideration for 
others : nothing could exceed her humility. Deeply as I 
felt the loss, and dearly as I loved the sufferer, when I lost 
all hope of her recovery I was thankful for her release. 
O Lord, let us not forget all Thy mercies, while we endeavor 
to bow to Thy chastisements. 

October 6th, 1857. — After two months I resume my 



324 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Journal. On the 7th August, Sir John, Mary, and Beatrice 
set off for Ireland, paying some pleasant visits in Yoi-kshire 
on the way. Sir John attended the meeting of the British 
Association, where he met many of his scientific friends, and 
received an honorary degree from Trinity College, Dublin. 
Mary was unwilling to go on my account, but I insisted on 
her doing so, and they have all much enjoyed their tour 
and cheered me by their letters. The miserable state of 
India weighs me down, and dwells upon my mind with 
fearful terror. I feel a sad want of faith and hope on that 
subject, and pray God to give me that " peace which passeth 
understanding." 

[This was the last entry in her Journal, but I bad many 
letters from her on our tour, expressing the warm interest she 
felt in all we heard and saw, especially in the Reformatory for 
boys established by her new neighbor and much-esteemed 
friend, Mr. Wheatley Balme, at whose Yorkshire home we 
paid a short visit. We also visited Mr. Brooke and Miss Lay- 
cock, near Huddersfield, and saw the distribution of prizes to 
the young mechanics, given by Lord Granville with an encour- 
aging address. 

From Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 

" August, 1857. 
" I have just read your yesterday's letter, not without tears 
at your account of the distribution of prizes, especially of that? 
pale-faced young mechanic who had written the best essay on 
English Uterature. That lad, if he lives, will henceforth distin- 
guish himself. Do get his name and present occupation. Those 
shouts of sympathetic feeling will never be forgotten by those 
who gained the prizes, and will be strong incentives to those who 
strive to gain them in future." 



LAST LETTER TO MRS. STARK. 325 



Mrs. Fletcher to Mrs. Stark. 

" Lanckigg, October 11th, 1857. 

" Mt dear Friend, — Many thanks to yon for remember- 
ing me amidst your many anxieties and tender sympathies for 
suffering friends. I feel for them and you most deeply. I 
Bee many well-informed people take a less gloomy view of 
Indian affairs than I do. My only comfort is in the belief 
that a ' righteous God loveth righteousness,' and that He has 
power to bring good out of evil. Never was there such a trial 
of faith and hope as this sad state of India. 

" My own bodily health is good, and I pray against de- 
spondency; for in my eighty-eighth year I can make little effort. 
You would not know me, I am so changed in mind and tem- 
perament. You will pray for me. All the circumstances of my 
home are the happiest possible, and I am very grateful for it." 

When we returned to Lancrigg, the end of September, we 
■were received with even more than my mother's usual warmth 
and thankfulness of affection. The weather was very fine, and 
she sat with me and others a good deal in the open air, and 
took a lively interest in hearing of tiie different people we had 
seen, especially her old friend Mr. Craig and his daughter Sarah, 
in Tipperary, Dr. Livingstone, then about to return to his great 
mission in Africa, Lady Parry, whom we had seen in Wicklow, 
and many others. I had-'"not, however, been long or much 
alone with my mother before I became aware that the hope- 
ful buoyancy of her spirit was affected in a way I had 
never before seen it. The excellent maid who always slept in 
her room told me that she had observed a change in her a few 
days before our return from Ireland. At the age of eighty- 
seven it should not have excited any surprise, as the very in- 
tensity of her feelings made it more remarkable that the spring 
of hopefulness had lasted so long, than that it should now in 
some degree fail. The variety of private sorrows and public 
troubles, in which she had taken so deep an interest, during 
the last years of her life, doubtless did contribute to the end 
which was approaching. We could not but feel " that the 
silver cord of her existence was loosed, that the golden 



326 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

towl was broken," although we never lost the hope of her 
revival until the middle of January. After that her bodily 
weakness increased; she kept chiefly in bed, and died from the 
exhaustion of nature, without any bodily pain, and in a gentle 
sleep, on the morning of the 5th of Februarj'^, 1858. 

The following note from our kind fi'iend, the Rev. R. P. 
Graves, expresses truly what we desired fervently to feel at 
the time — " That it was well:" — ■ 

" Dove Nest, Windekmere, February 5th, 1858. 

" My dear Lapy Richardson, — I have just heard that God 
has taken to Himself your dear, good, noble mother. ' It is 
well,' and we must all feel thankful to Him that her decline 
was not longer protracted. Her own rest is come; and yet 
we need not think of her as gone from us, for I am sure she will 
still live in our hearts, and her example, looked back upon, 
continue to animate our lives. I cannot thei'efore speak as a 
mourner, though feeling deeply all she has been to the many 
circles which looked to her as to a centime ; and I earnestly trust 
that those nearest to her, and to whom she was most precious, 
will be enabled to give her back to God with thankfulness far 
exceeding their sorrow. I shall be very desirous to hear that 
you and dear Mrs. Davy have not suffered in health by the trial 
you have been going through. R. P. Graves."] 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

At the time of my mother's death, now seventeen years 
ago, one who had known her only during the latter years of 
her life, wrote thus to a mutual friend concerning her ap- 
proaching death : — " I am very sorry to hear nothing more 
hopeful from Lancrigg ; but the balance is not all on the 
mournful side. A mission so fulfilled, and such a mission, 
is not a common thing. Merely to have seen her must have 
kept many people from doing much mischief, if it has not 
led them to do sorne little bit of good — ' Life is real, life is 
earnest,' was so plainly and attractively preached by her 
look alone." 

If such was the impression of a thoughtful observer, who 
had only known her slightly, and if it be responded to by all 
who came nearer to her, j,nd most of all by those to whom 
life lost most of its sunshine when she left it, it seems at 
once due to her memory and the cause of goodness to en- 
deavor to bring together the records of a social influence so 
extensive and so penetrating as hers. 

The reminiscences written by herself were begun, at my 
request, when she was nearly seventy, and give a vivid 
picture of her simple childhood and youth, the events of 
which stood out in her recollection as a green vista of sum- 
mer days, spent among the fields and flowers of a small 
unknown hamlet in the plain of York. She continued to 
note down at intervals her joys and her sorrows until 



328 CONCLUDING CU AFTER. 

nearly the close of her life ; but after her marriage her life 
became one so full of jDublic and private interests, and her 
sphere of usefulness was so extended, that her reminis- 
cences, although full of the impress of her faith, love, and 
hope, fail, perhaps, in giving so distinct an impression of 
her whole character as may be gathered from some of 
her letters written at the time to those who shared her 
thoughts and feelings on passing events of interest and affec- 
tion. 

It was the earnest desire of my dear sister, Mrs. Davy, 
as well as my own, that these Memorials of our mother 
should be printed for her descendants ; and my sister un- 
dertook to select some letters, and to add her own recol- 
lections, which went back five years earlier than mine 
relating to the Edinburgh period. This my sister was able 
to do before her illness and death, which occurred in 1869. 
Since then a succession of family sorrows have made me 
delay the preparation of these Memorials for the press ; 
but now that my own day is far spent, I am desirous to 
accomplish the work before I go hence, feeling sure that I 
can in no other way leave so precious a legacy to her great- 
grandchildren as the example her noble, truthful, loving, 
and consistent life sets before them. Hers cannot perhaps 
be considered a religious autobiography in the ordinary sense 
of that term, but it is because we believe that hers was in 
very truth a life devoted to God's service and her neigh- 
bor's good, that we desire to have a record of it left in print 
for her descendants. 

My mother's view of the social duties of a Christian led 
her to the conviction that exclusiveness was a defect rather 
than a merit, and although she had many intimate friends 
among those who held different opinions on these points, it 
was a striking proof of the consistency with which she was 
able to cany out her principle of living above the common- 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 329 

place estimate of social life in England, while mixing freely 
in it, that I believe no one ever suspected her of what is 
called worldliness in her intercourse with society. She so 
little suspected this in others that it ceased to exist in her 
presence. She called out the reality of those she conversed 
with by the intuitive sympathy she felt and expressed for 
what was real, beautiful, and true, and by her no less 
strongly expressed scorn for what was base, frivolous, and 
sordid. She had not by nature what is often mistaken by 
the other sex for sweetness of temper, the clinging, yielding 
temperament which submits patiently to injustice and 
neglect ; and had she been united to one less affectionate, 
and less high-toned than herself, she might have been 
supremely miserable, but her wealth of " saving common 
sense " prevented her " miscellaneous impulses " from lead- 
ing her astray. She could not have attached herself 
strongly to any one who had not the great qualities she 
most valued, — earnestness of purpose and singleness of 
heart. She was loved by men and women as few so beau- 
tiful have been ; for if it be true that beauty in their own 
sex excites the envy of women rather than their affection, 
it was one of her felicities to form an exception to this 
axiom. The affection of good women formed a great part 
of the happiness of her'life, and she scattered flowers and 
interests over the paths of many who, from temperament 
or circumstances, might not have enjoyed some of the 
pleasures she was enabled to bring within their reach. 

The secret of my mother's influence was well expressed 
by her early friend, Dr. Kilvington, of Ripon, as she her- 
self records it, and it may be called the key-note of her 
whole life. He says in one of his letters to her at the age 
of seventeen, " I have never known any one so tenderly and 
truly and universally beloved as you are, and I believe it 
arises from your capacity of loving." As this loving heart 



330 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

was God's special gift to her, so she gave her heart to Him 
in as large a measure as can be said of any human being. 
She lived in the habitual fear and love of God, fear of 
offending Him, and joy in loving Him. Her fear of offend- 
ing God w^as shown in the unmurmuring- submission with 
which she bore great sorrows, and her joy in loving her 
Father in Heaven, by the overflowing gratitude with 
which she expressed her sense of His daily mercies. Of 
her it might be said with truth, " She rejoiced to see a 
Divine will moving in all things, and so it came to pass 
that her common thoughts were piety, and her life grati- 
tude." 

The bright sunshine of winter or summer, good tidings 
either of a public or private nature, called out these fervent 
ejaculations of thankfulness to ': God the Giver of all good 
things." If tidings of a melancholy nature reached her, 
her first impulse was to alleviate, if possible, the present 
sviffering, and then to find out all the points of comfort 
in the case before her. It would be difiicult to select 
any special instances of this thankfulness of heart; it 
seemed so much a part of herself that, when it ceased, she 
died. 

She had been an early riser from her childhood, and 
continued to be so until nearly eighty ; and so wide and 
varied were her interests, that every day seemed to bring 
its work along with it, so that life never lost its practical 
or its poetical aspect where she was. After she ceased to 
join the family breakfast-table, the activity of the mind 
continued in full force from the early hour at which she 
awoke until ten at night. She occupied herself for houi's 
before others in the house were astir, in reading or writing, 
or devising liberal things for the good or enjoyment of 
others. Perhaps one of the most vivid recollections that 
we have of her, in her latter years, is her appearance in 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 331 

bed before breakfast on a fine spring or summer morning, 
her face still radiant from the morning reading of her 
favorite Psalms. The tones in which she would repeat, 
after the morning kiss, " Bless the Lord, my sOul, and 
forget not all His benefits," the bright, healthy complexion, 
SO unlike that of age in general, the mingled look of purity 
and intellect her eye expressed as she looked into the eyes 
of those she loved for the sympathy which, thank God, she 
never failed to receive, and then the thoughts and feelings 
of the night, the sad ones disappearing in the utterance of 
them and the hopeful ones taking their place, with her 
plans for the day, which always included some attention to 
the wants and feelings of others, rich or poor, — this pic- 
ture rises to the memory, as the habitual state during 
an old age which was as free as her whole life had been 
from bodily or mental infirmity, and which continued 
to be her frame of mind until five months before her 
death. 

The minute and affectionate interest she took in her 
poorer neighbors was a very marked feature in her char- 
acter, very early formed, and continued through her busy 
life to the end. If she had adopted the mother of a family 
as a friend, this interest, from sympathy with her, was 
carried out towards every member of the household, chil- 
dren and grandchildren; and if any of them were settled 
at a distance, either in England, Scotland, or Ireland, New 
Zealand or Australia, India or America, she found she had 
some friend there, to whom she could recommend them, or 
from whom she could learn some tidings of them to cheer 
the mother's or the granny's heart. In talking about them, 
she rarely made a mistake about their names. Several 
have mentioned this to me with surprise and pleasure, that 
their Willys, and Johnnys, and Marys were so distinctly 
remembered by her in her great age. 



332 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

The impression she made on servants who were capable 
of understanding her character was also a striking point in 
her social influence ; many of them have since told me 
that although she was a faithful reprover of their faults 
and not what could be called an unexacting mistress, that 
scarcely a day passes since they left her service that they 
do not think of her with gratitude, and feel proud to have 
been in the same house with her so long. The feeling so 
common with servants of having a separate code of morals 
for themselves and their masters, was one she exceedingly 
disliked ; she endeavored to make them feel that she 
loved them as children of a common Master, and earnestly 
desired to raise them to her standard of feeling and action ; 
and where she was understood by her domestics, the im- 
pression she made on them was as permanent as on every 
other class of persons she associated with. 

None are now left who remember my mother in her 
early married life, but I have received some recollections of 
her from two members of the same family — Mr. Bannatyne, 
of Glasgow, and his sister, Mrs. Stark, one of her most 
valued friends and correspondents for fifty years. Mrs. 
Stark's reminiscences were sent to me soon after my 
mother's death, and Mr. Bannatyne's were copied from 
his Note-book and sent to me after his death by his 
widow. 

Mrs. Stark says : — " You will feel, I am sure, everything 
that remains to you of your dearest mother so strongly 
and vividly impressed that when your sister and you are 
together you will call up the remembrance , as if you saw 
it in a stereoscope, and little things will float before you 
hardly noted at the time. There was always a purpof*e 
and a character in everything she said and did. From the 
time I first knew her, her kindness and condescension (I 
was going to say to me, but she would not have liked that 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 333 

word) engaged and charmed me, and, as her whole noble 
nature unfolded to me, won my whole heart. 

" We had heard of Mrs. Fletcher before, but I think it 
must have been about 1803 when your father and she came 
to spend an evening with us at my uncle Dugald Stewart's, 
where I was on a visit with my parents. Our father and 
yours were friends before. How well I remember her 
and all the conversation of that supper-table, the very place 
she sat, with her blue gown and brilliant look. I had not-- 
been much in company, but we, my dear father and mother 
and I, were all to go to a ball at Miss Coates's, where we 
should see Mrs. Fletcher again. To see her seemed to me 
enough. Henry Brougham was there, and Robert Owen, 
and many other notabilities. I watched every one who 
had the happiness to be near her, and particularly when 
her face was lighted up in conversation with my father or 
mother; but she spoke to me so kindly, and told me to 
come and see her when I went to Edinburgh ; and so I did ; 
and from that day, ever, ever on, she di'ew me to love and 
admire her more and more. 

" Soon after I went to my Edinburgh home she gave it her 
blessing, and your father and she used to be our inmates at 
the cottage at Kirkhill." ,' 

From Mr. Bannatyn^s Note-hook. 

" Glasgow, 21s< February, 1858. 

" Mrs. Fletcher is dead, at a very advanced age. I trust 
some day justice will be done in some of the autobiographies of 
distinguished men, probably in Brougham's, to this very re- 
markable woman. Throughout life I have never known a 
purer, a more elevated, a more amiable spirit. Her beautiful 
countenance and majestic air were combined with the most 
attractive kindliness. Her full and commanding voice and 
faultless speech live, like every other distinguishing feature, in 



334 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

the memory of all who were privileged to know her, and most 
of all in the memory of those who were permitted to call her 
a friend; and these were not few, for never was there a mind 
better attuned, not only to general benevolence, but to warm 
personal attachments. She busied herself through life in pro- 
moting liberty and truth and holiness. Her enthusiasm in 
favor of the rights of man, at a period when this country was 
threatened with despotic rule by an oligarchy, raised up many 
violent and bitter opjaonents ; but I doubt whether she ever had 
an enemy. Her disinterestedness and candor disarmed those 
who might otherwise, in times of the greatest excitement, have 
yielded themselves up to personal hostility, even against a 
w^oman. It was my happiness, as a boy, to have had the oppor- 
tunity of intimately knowing Mrs. Fletcher." 

It was early in this century that she became intimate 
with Henry Brougham, during the period he passed in 
Edinburgh, before he left the Scotch Bar. They seldom 
met in after years, but he never ceased to make her feel 
that she retained that place in his respect and friendship 
which his young imagination had assigned her. 

In Lord Brougham's introduction to his own speech on 
Burgh Reform in Scotland, when he notices with high praise 
my father's exertions in that cause, he takes occasion to pay ' 
a tribute to my mother. He compares her to two women 
of most heroic and tender natures — Madame Roland and 
Lucy Hutchinson ; and if we add to them Lady Grizzel 
Baillie (her own favorite heroine), we have, as nearly as pos- 
sible, the combination of qualities which made up her moral 
and intellectual nature in the estimation of those who knew 
her best. 

I remember, when on a visit to Mrs. Brougham in 1832, 
my mother's expressing her fervent sympathy with the 
mother of such a man, one who had so largely benefited his 
country, and had at the same time been so affectionate a 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 335 

son and brother, and she added — "I fear, my dear friend, 
my head could not have stood such a trial of happiness as 
yours has done ; " while the mother of Brougham, with her 
quiet smile and look of grand simplicity, replied — "I must 
say Henry neA'er forgets his old mother." 

Mrs. Brougham told us also on this visit to Brougham 
Hall that the time she felt most elated, and had fears for 
her own head, was when her son Henry was returned 
Member for Yorkshire, without possessing an acre of ground 
in the county. She took us to see the picture presented to 
her on that occasion of Henry Brougham by the freeholders 
of Yorkshire. I remember she told me then, when we were 
alone, that her son always considered that my mother's 
friendship had been of great use to him as a young man, 
that her entire absence of personal vanity astonished him, 
and that she never failed to rouse him to noble aims for the 
honor and good of his country. 

This testimony from his venerable mother, who was 
truth itself, gives additional interest to the last letter he 
wrote to mine, on hearing from Mrs. Arnold, at Kendal, of 
his old friend's serious illness. I cannot resist inserting it 
in this closing chapter, as there is a gentle and tender tone 
about it, which is pleasant to associate with one who filled 
so prominent a place iiT England's Parliamentary history 
dui-ing fifty years of this century. 

I 
From Lord Brougham. 

" My dear old Frifnd, — It gave me great pleasure indeed 
to see Mrs. Arnold and her daughter here, from the respect I, 
in common with all. had for Dr. Arnold ; but it was no Httle 
abatement of this gratification to hear from her of your having 
been ailing. I hope and trust that you are getting round, and I 
shall be most truly obliged to you if you will desire some one to 
give me a few lines directed to London, where (d. v.) I hope to 



336 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

arrive this evening, merely to let me know how yoii are. The 
pleasure I have in seeing once more my old Kendal friends 
(alas! I may say those of them who remain) has been greatly 
increased by finding them so right and so zealous in their 
opinions upon the new attempts to revive the infernal slave- 
trade under a new name. What I stated last July in the 
House of Lords on this subject proves to have been rather 
under than over the truth, and I well know that of the many 
subjects connected with human rights and duties on which you 
and I have always agreed (indeed, I know of none on which we 
ever differed), there has been none nearer to your heai-t thau 
this. — Ever, your affectionate H. Brougham. 

"Kendal, Tuesday, Nov. 11, 1857." 

The Impressions made on a Granddaughter as a Child. 

" The concern she showed if any of her grandchildren 
failed in due deference to her never had a shadow of petty 
exactingness, but was always plainly for themselves, as being 
a defect of character where she would fain have seen nothing 
but good. If she ever fancied there had been the least trace 
of personal vexation in the most deserved reproof, she would 
before long ask a little girl's pardon as for undue vehemence, 
to the delighted wonder of the rest and the utter melting of 
the culprit herself. 

" Her sympathy with the young in all their joys had the 
rare quality of not requiring that the joy should be one 
she herself would have chosen, her imagination always 
helping her heart to enter into the needs of widely differing 
characters. Her intuitive wisdom also kept her from expect- 
ing exact agreement with even her most cherished forms 
of o^jinion, content if she saw any kindling of enthusiasm 
for what was unquestionably good, any sign of quiet duti- 
fulness ; and many who in a different age and among other 
surroundings may have been led to varying conclusions 
must yet feel how much of any love of goodness and hatred 
of evil there may be in them was kindled and fostered 
by her. How much of the delight in books, and Nature, 
and human life, came to them through the touch of her 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 887 

'^:!c:'::i ,r ™^ 'r ""-^ *-.-'** t^e 

the tae) hirt .1° T',""'"' ""'* ("nconsoiously at 
through the ..ead I'whL the wt' '" '™"'°«'' *°" 

indignation, and, on th "th i of t.' T"' ."'' '' ^°"^^* 
simplicities of 1 f e of unlll'f. f r ''"*^ '^ *^^ *^"« 

sr:itrj^.~ ^"-- ::: 

regard Th. ^^^.^^'^^^^ *« bestow alms a much-coveted 

::ro„ f.^-rcra:rrrt,S";afar 

o<; h'r r:^::: - trr:.:r„/s -,r- 
riZaZ^f. ^"^ ^-' "" ^^^- -^ --- -„. ?:ra:: 

The following eitraof from Margaret Fuller's book "At 
Home and Abroad," was lately sent to me by a friend 1 
.s a w.„nder£ully true picture of the outward LmTevtlin ' 

madeTitirV" "d"'"™' °' «™-^- ^'« -'^-^ ' 
made m t is quite pardonable in a foreigner, and even in 

an Amencan, that of believing my motht t; be sl",^ 

and hke the old ladies admired by Bums and Lot t 

- very difficult for travellers to tod out accnraX the 

dis luctive di£fe.e„ce between English, Scotch, and ", .^ 

.:; i::^:'j'--^-' ^•'^-^'' p-'-tiy known 



15 



338 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

From "At Home and Abroad," by Margaret Fuller OssolL 

"Ambleside, Aug. 27, 1846. 

" We also met a fine specimen of the noble, intelligent Scotch- 
woman, such as Walter Scott and Burns knew how to prize. 
Seventy-six years have passed over her head, only to prove in 
her the truth of my theory, that we need never grow old. She 
was ' brought up ' in the animated and intellectual circle of 
Edinburgh, in youth an apt disciple, in her prime a bright 
ornament, of that society. She had been an only child, a 
cherished wife, an adored mother, unspoiled by love in any of 
these relations, because that love was founded on knowledge. 
In childhood she had warmly sympathized in the spirit that 
animated the American Revolution, and Washington had been 
her hero : later, the interest of her husband in every struggle for 
freedom had cherished her own. She had known in the course 
of her long life many eminent men, and sympathized now in 
the triumph of the people over the Corn Laws, as she had in 
the American victories, with as much ardor as when a girl, 
though with a wiser mind. Her eye was full of light, her 
manner and gesture of dignity; her voice rich, sonorous, and 
finely modulated ; her tide of talk marked by candor and 
justice, showing in every sentence her ripe experience and her 
noble genial nature. Dear to memory will be the sight of her 
in the beautiful seclusion of her home among the mountains, a 
picturesque, flower-wreathed dwelling, where affection, tran- 
quillity, and wisdom were the gods of the hearth to whom 
was offered no vain oblation. Grant us more such women, 
Tine! Grant to men to reverence, to seek for such!" 

My mother, who died at eighty -eight, had survived all 
her own contemporary friends, but her affections were so 
young and her sympathy " so radiant," as Mrs. Arnold used 
to say, that she made many friends among the middle-aged 
and young when they met in London, or when they visited 
the Lakes on a summer holiday. Among those she most 
valued were the Rev. Hampden Gurney, Frederick Maurice, 
Alexander Scott, and especially Mr. Stanley, now Dean of 



CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 339 

Westminster, whom she had known when he was a Rugby 
sixth-form boy. Mr. H. Gurney, writing of her to Mrs. 
Arnold at the time of her death, says, " I had heard of 
Mrs. Fletcher's hopeless illness, so it was a relief to hear 
from you that she had reached the Land where the Sun of 
Righteousness shines without a cloud. I am thankful to 
have known so grand a specimen of noble womanhood." 
To the same friend Mr. Stanley wrote at the time : " I had 
heard of Mrs Fletcher's death from young William Words- 
worth at Oxford. She had certainly to the very last 
nourished and renewed her strength, ' mounted up with 
wings as an eagle.' How much there is to be thankful 
for, in every such case, that one has known of a character 
living on for so many years without leaving behind any 
recollection of littleness, and so very much of excellence and 
beauty." 

To me also Mr. Stanley wrote, after a visit to Lancrigg, 
from Fox How, on his return from his tour to the Holy 
Land with the Prince of Wales, when I sent him a photo- 
graph of my mother : — 

" Many thanks for the photograph, which I shall value highly 
as a memorial of the character which I used to regard as a per- 
sonification beyond any oth,er I had ever seen of Christian 
Hope. Indeed, I fully entered into your feeling, and was 
grateful to you for at once speaking so freely on a grief, which 
is not increased but greatly lightened by being always re- 
membered. I went to your mother's grave in Grasmere Church- 
yard, and was much struck with the texts. It was of her, as 
indeed of my own dear mother, so true, that the eye and the 
ear, of any who had eyes to see or ears to hear, so immediately 
received what was within. ' ' 

Hope was indeed the " anchor of her soul " from youth 
to age. She quoted four lines to me in one of the last 
letters I had from her, when hope was beginning to give 



340 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 

way but love still remained. I do not yet know who wrote 
them, but they very much exjDress her habitual state of 
mind, and with them I close this book : — 

" For who has aught to love, and loves aright, 
Will never in the darkest strait despair, 
For out of love exhales a living light, 
The light of love, that spends itself in prayer." 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

BY HER MOTHER. 



July 15fh, 1817. 

My dear Children, — The desire of my heart is to preserve 
some memorial of your beloved sister, some record or testimony 
of her many rare and admirable qualities ; and this not for 
her sake only, but for yours, that amidst the temptations, sor- 
rows, or vicissitudes of life, you may have, as it were, a sort of 
sanctuary to retire into, where your anxious and troubled 
spirits may repose on the contemplation of a character which is 
endeared to you by many tender recollections. 

Grace was born on the 23d of May, 1796, and in her in- 
fancy she was more remarkable for gentleness and docility of 
temper than for quickness of apprehension or extraordinary 
parts. I early observed, l^owever, uncommon disinterested- 
ness of character — a preference of others to herself; and this 
was shown in the exultation with which she ran home from 
school to tell of her sister's superior scholarship. It was 
never of herself she boasted; and though less accustomed to 
attract notice than my two elder children, she never discovered 
envy or jealousy on that account. Being one day much caressed 
by an old lady, on my asking her why she thought that lady 
had been so kind to her, she answeied, with much simplicity, 
" I know why, mamma: because I am clumsy, and have not a 
pretty face." 

In the summer of 1802, my two elder children went to 
Yorkshire, and Grace was the eldest of the four that remained 
with me. She was then six years old, and this seniority made 
her more the companion of my walks than she had hitherto 



342 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

been, and perhaps more the object of my attention. We lived 
during that summer at the village of Dalmeny, about nine 
miles from Edinburgh. Grace and I began to botanize to- 
gether, and I was sui-j^rised at the readiness of her apprehen- 
sion and her quickness in discovering new plants and leaves. 
She had great delight in this amusement. She had before 
this time made little progress in reading, but she used to sit 
on my knee for hours together listening to stories aiid recita- 
tions of poetry, entreating for a repetition of them again and 
again. This sununer seemed to be an era in her mental 
existence. I used to find her in a quiet corner, reading with 
intense and passionate delight all kinds of stories and works of 
fancy. Nor was her imagination merely passive; for when at 
play with the other children, she was inventive, lively, and 
affectionate. When she was eight years old I engaged a 
governess highly recommended to me for integrity of principle 
and useful habits. This lady remained with me nearly five 
years, and I found her useful in many respects; but the stern- 
ness of her temper did not suit some of my children, and if 
this part of my life were to occur again, I would act differently, 
and I have often reproached myself with the tears I suffered 
to be shed in the school-room. I had hitherto pursued no 
system with my children but to make thom happy, and en- 
deavor to make them good. I was their play-fellow, their most 
intimate companion, but I had neither time nor patience to be 
their teacher; and as I was quite satisfied with their teacher's 
integrity of purpose and usefulness of habits and aims, I rec- 
onciled myself to her defect of temper as an evil which my in- 
dulgence would mitigate and counteract. 

Grace, more than any of the rest, was the victim of this 
severity. She never complained, but after expiating her little 
faults by teai's and submission, consoled herself by taking 
possession of a large chair in her mother's room, and there 
with some favorite book (not seldom Plutarch's Lives, or 
Shakespeare), she forgot her cares and sorrows, and had her 
favorite passages to read to me when I came in. I could at this 
moment think I see her, her counteuance beaming with delight, 
and coiled up in the chair waiting for my return. 

In June, 1806, we all went to the Lakes. Though the 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 343 

pleasures arising from beautiful scenery are not early expressed 
by children, they are long remembered. This summer was 
full of enjoyment. Every new walk afforded a new pleasure. 
Lakes and mountains were objects of poetical association, and 
Coniston and Windermere were never forgotten. 

There was a little rocky bit where caves were easily imagined, 
in a copse wood behind Belmont House, and there my happy 
children spent hours of that real enjoyment which none but free 
and cherished children know. In this cave they enacted many 
adventurous histories which produced much innocent mirth. 

When winter returned, the school-room in Edinburgh be- 
came perhaps the more irksome from the freedom and enjoy- 
ment of the preceding summer ; but in July, 1807, we all went 
to a new scene at Hebburn, in Northumberland, and they 
again enjoyed the pleasures of the country, and Shetland 
ponies, and an old border tower, where we had a school in 
which they assisted, and where the governess worked with us 
with hearty good -will. 

Grace returned at this time, with her kind Aunt Dawson, to 
Yorkshire, and the correspondence with home awakened in 
her. at eleven years old, an unusual amount of sensibility and 
tenderness of feeling. The sweetness of her disposition made 
her much an object of affection to the friends she was with ; 
and an intimate correspondence with her mother cultivated 
her taste, and cherished that desire of intellectual improve- 
ment which the irksome lessons of the school-room had a 
tendency to repress. ^ 

After I parted with the governess a different plan was 
pursued. A small class was formed among some favorite 
friends of my children, and masters of real ability came to our 
respective houses to give lessons, which greatly advanced the 
desire for knowledge in all my daughters. Grace's decided 
talent for art began to show itself, and she had instruction in 
drawing from busts, from Henning the artist, before he went 
to London. 

The great intimacy formed about this time with the youngest 
daughter of Mr Mackenzie (" The Man of Feeling ") and some 
other good and intellectual companions, were of great advan- 
tage to my girls, and led them early to appreciate the blessings 



344 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

of friendship with their own sex, and to discuss their innocent 
desires and imaginations as only equals in age and taste can do. 

In the autumn of 1810 I went with my eldest daughter to 
London, and during the following winter Grace and Margaret 
became more than ever my companions, and, pursuing their 
studies together, they made considerable progress in Latin and 
Italian, while their intimacy and attachment to each other was 
greatly increased by the sympathy of tastes and the mutual 
enjoyment of their cheerful and happy home. 

It was about this period of her life that Grace became in- 
timately known to my friend, Mrs. Millar, whose opinion of 
her talents and early development of thought and understand- 
ing was expressed to me with all the M'armth of generous 
admiration. Her visits also at Milheugh to the daughters of 
the celebrated Professor Millar, of Glasgow, increased her 
ardor and love of knowledge, and excited her to a degree she 
had never before experienced. Her letters to me from thence 
were written in a strain of enthusiastic enjoyment. She used 
to speak of this visit at Milheugh as the acme of her intellec- 
tual existence. The extent and variety of knowledge that was 
pointed out to her on subjects of taste, politics, and morals 
made her feel, she said, how she had before trifled away time, 
and when each day closed on these delightful speculations she 
used to lie awake whole hours to revolve the great things she 
hoped one day to accomplish. The humor and fun of some 
members of that Scottish sisterhood formed no small part of the 
enjoyment of the visit, as well as the explorations daily made of 
the lovely glens and burns in the beautiful neighborhood of 
Bothwell and Hamilton. 

From these enchanting visions and animating scenes she was 
recalled home by the illness of her father, and in his sick-room 
she exerted herself with all that assiduity and tenderness could 
suggest. The sweetness of her attentions and the cheerfulness 
of her services could not be exceeded, and I found in her the 
kindest and firmest support under all my anxieties. 

In the winter of 1812 we were favored by a visit from 
Miss Aikin, whose literary attainments, and whose lively, 
varied, and powerful talents, furnished her with inexhaustible 
sources of conversation. In these our beloved Grace shared 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 345 

very largely. She became a peculiar object of Miss Aikin'a 
attention and regard. They read and conversed together, and 
the desire of making more classical proficiency was the result 
of her intercourse Mith this accomplished woman She re- 
sumed the study of Latin, and though it was sometiirres inter- 
rupted by more favorite pursuits, it never afterwards ceased to 
engage a share of her attention. 

In the summer of 1812 she accompanied her father, mother, 
and youngest sister into Yorkshire, and Margaret and she 
resumed their favorite pursuits together with a jjleasure 
heightened, if possible, by their late separation. 

In the autumn of that year these sisters were present at a 
York county election, and stood for several hours in the crowd 
near the hustings to hear the speeches of the different cancji- 
dates. It might seem extraordinary that girls of fifteen and 
sixteen should enjoy this species of amusement, and yet I do not 
exaggerate in saying that there was not among all the audi- 
tors then present one heart that beat higher to the sentiments 
of genuine freedom and enlightened patriotism than that of 
the person whose character I am now portraying. Grace re- 
mained in Yorkshire all the following winter, cheering by the 
sweetness of her engaging manners the kind old friends whose 
quiet and unvaried hours formed a striking contrast with the 
gaiety and animation of an Edinburgh winter. During some 
weeks of this winter she had the happiness to be the guest of 
Mrs. Millar (who then resided at the village of Fulford, near 
York), and certainly no-one out of her own family ever obtained 
so strong an influence over her mind and affections. This waa. 
in a great measure from the power of sympathy. This quality, 
so engaging to the young, produced an intimacy which rarely 
exists between persons of such different ages. Mrs Millar has 
much vivacity of temper and feeling, with a strong and tender 
capacity of affection. Her eloquent conversation and engaging 
manners, and, above all, her elevation of mind and quickness 
of sensibility, gave her unbounded influence over every human 
heart that was capable of comprehending her. Over that of 
our beloved Grace she exercised an influence that was almost 
maternal, and she repaid this homage by the most perfect 
affection for her adopted child. 
15* . 



346 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

Grace was peculiarly alive to feelings of compassion, and it 
■was not with her a passive and inactive feeling. During the 
winter of this year a poor American woman was taken ill 
when passing through Tadcaster on her way to Hull, the 
settlemtJut of her husband, a seafaring man, who had died in 
the south of England. No sooner did our dear Grace hear of 
this unhappy stranger than she visited her in one of those 
haunts of wretchedness which afford a night's shelter to the 
wandering poor. Ann Tucker was the poor woman's name. 
She was in the last stage of consumption, and the fatigue of a 
long journey on foot had brought on symptoms of premature 
childbirth. Under these circumstances of severe distress the 
parish officers of Tadcaster were desirous to hasteii the poor 
woman forward on her journey, that she might reach her 
husband's settlement before her child was born. Grace was 
shocked by the barbarity of their conduct ; and after expostu- 
lating with them, and threatening to lay the case before the 
neighboring Justices of the Peace, she accomplished the object 
she had at heart, and personally attended the removal of this 
poor woman from her wretched lodging to a comfortable room 
in the parish workhouse, where Ann Tucker was shortly after- 
wards delivered of a male child. Grace continued to visit her 
poor patient at least once every day for several weeks. She 
read to her, soothed and comforted her by compassionate atten- 
tions, and took her such articles of food as suited better with her 
sickly palate than that which the workhouse afforded. This 
young woman was gentle, pious, aJffiectionate, and grateful 
(Grace could never speak of her tenderness to her child with- 
out emotion) ; but she became at last so feeble and emaciated 
that she grew regardless even of her child, and sank away 
almost witliout a struggle. Henry Tucker, the infant of this 
poor woman, then became an object of no ordinary interest, 
(irace had promised his mother to see that he was taken care 
of ; and as long as she remained at Tadcaster, not a day passed 
without her visiting him. The intrepid humanity that could 
lead a girl of seventeen to contend with the ruggedness of 
parish officers, and personally rescue a human being from such 
suffering, requires no comment. But this was not the only 
instance of her benevolence. She was constantly ahve to every 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 347 

claim of pity, and yet she discriminated judiciously between 
the really needful and the imposing beggar. 

In the winter of that year, during her residence at Tadcaster, 
she made considerable proficiency in painting, and finished a 
good copy of the picture of a Jewish Rabbi. 

In the spring of 1813 she returned to Edinburgh, with a 
mind enriched by more extensive reading. Such of her letters 
as have been preserved mark the progress of her vigorous 
understanding at this period. 

On the 14th of June, 1813, our whole family removed to 
Park Hall, a small property which Mr. Fletcher had purchased, 
and Grace enjoyed highly the mountain scenery of that part 
of Stirlingshire. While her sisters amused themselves with 
sketching landscapes, she used to draw groups of cottage 
children, and not unfrequently found good picturesque subjects 
for her pencil in the old beggars whom we met with in our 
rambles. She engaged ardently with her sisters in teaching an 
evening school, attended by some village children ; and it 
would not be easy to find a family that realized more pleasure 
than ours did that summer in the enjoyment of beautiful scenery, 
in the happiness of family affection, and in the luxury of doing 
good. We were at that time living in a very small house, 
cheaply furnished by a village carpenter. We were too happy 
to feel any desire for the gratifications of vanity, or to envy 
those who possessed them. ' It was a summer of uninterrupted 
happiness till we were deprived of Margaret's society. She 
went into Yorkshire in the autumn of 1813, and I, accom- 
panied by my two eldest children, went to pay a long pro- 
mised visit to Mrs. Glasgow, at Mountgreenan, in Ayrshire. 
Grace, during this time, remained at Park Hall with her 
father and her youngest brother and sister. In the followino- 
winter she remained in Edinburgh, and partook more than 
formerly of general society, where her engaging manners and 
animated conversation made her an object of attention wherever 
she was known. 

The summer of 1814 was one of deep interest to our whole 
family. On the 16th of July, in that year, Grace's eldest 
sister was married to Mr. Taylor, and such an event could not 
happen in a family so tenderly united without much anxious 



348 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

solicitude for her future happiness. Immediately after that 
event the family returned to Park Hall, where Grace resumed 
her habits of active benevolence, and shared with her sisters in 
the task of instructing village children. She likewise pursued 
her favorite amusement of painting with less interruption than 
in town. She took a portrait of her father, and one of her 
youngest brother. The former was an excellent likeness, but 
her taste was so superior to her execution that she was always 
dissatisfied with her performances, and often threw aside her 
pencil in despair of overcoming the impediments which a female 
artist must always feel from the want of scientific instruction. 
Some of her sketches, however, made during this summer, of 
old beggars and cottage children, were excellent, and obtained 
the unqualified approbation of some good judges of drawing. 

In December, 1814, she again left her beloved home to 
cheer that of her friends at Tadcaster. I shall never forget 
the sadness of her countenance as I saw her seated in the mail- 
coach that was to convey her away from Edinburgh. It was 
a dreary day in December, the snow was falling heavily, the 
sky was dark and lowering ; she suppressed the expression of 
her feelings, hut she sank back in her seat, pale and almost 
faint with grief at the thought of leaving those she loved 
so dearly. She was fortunate in having as the companions of 
her journey friends who knew how to value her. In a few days 
she wrote me an animated account of her journey, and a cheer- 
ful view of her feelings and occupations at Tadcaster. She 
was so naturally disposed to happiness that all the refinement 
of her character did not render her fastidious. It was the 
happiness of others, not her own, that she was always aiming 
at, and this was the secret of her contentment and cheerfulness 
of temper. She employed herself during this M'inter in painting 
the portraits of her uncle and aunt, and succeeded so well that 
Mr. Williams, an Edinburgh artist, assured her friends that 
there were not above two artists there who could have executed 
them better. There was, however, in the tone of her letters 
this winter a more pensive expression, more longing for con- 
genial society, and more indulgence of cherished recollections 
connected with home than formerly. On observing this, 1 pro- 
posed that she should spend a month or two amongst friends 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 349 

in London, so that a variety of new objects and an enlarged 
sphere of observation might exhilarate and amuse her. °To 
this proposal she was less inclined to assent than might have 
been expected from one so young and so alive to the gratifica- 
tions of taste. But it separated her further from the home of 
her affections, it prolonged that separation, it carried her amono- 
strangers of distinguished intellectual character before whom 
she dreaded to appear without the support she was accustomed 
to derive from her own family. Ever disinterested in her pur- 
poses and feelings, she objected strongly to the expense this 
journey would occasion; but her friend Mrs. Millar (with 
whom she passed a dehghtful week this winter) seconded her 
mother's wishes in reconciling her to it, and accident favored 
Its accomplishment, by giving her the opportunity of travelling 
with Dr. and Mrs. Brunton. The delight she experienced 
from this journey, and her sensibility to the kindness she re- 
ceived from her excellent friend and companion, Mrs. Brunton, 
and from others whom to know is to revere, is best expressed 
:n her own letters, and the impression which her gentle man- 
ners and cultivated mind produced on them is best to be col- 
lected from their communications to her mother. She spent 
six weeks in London, part of the time in lodgings with Mrs. 
Brunton, who daily accompanied her to such exhibitions as 
strangers most desire to see in London. At Mrs. Barbauld's 
Grace enjoyed the highest and most refined pleasures of society, 
and Miss Aikin's affectionate reception of her was warmly and 
gratefully remembered. One of her own letters from Mrs. 
Barbauld's house gives her feelings at the time better than her 
mother can record them: — 

From G. F:s letter to her Mother. 

" Stoke Newington, June, 1815. 
" Dearest of Minnies, - 1 left Hampstead with great regret 
on Monday, and came to town for one day and night, which I 
passed at Dr. Baillie's. There was a large party in the 
evening, where I did not know many people, but where Mrs. * 
Joanna was very kind in coming to speak to me very often- 
indeed, I am truly grateful to her for her constant kindness' 



350 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

and attention The next morning she took me to see a part 
of the town I had not before been in — Hyde Park and Picca- 
dilly. I was pleased to find such a place as the Park, where 
the poorest inhabitants of this overgrown and dismal metrop- 
olis may see the trees and green grass, and have some chance' 
of feeling that a good Spirit formed the universe. After our 
return, Mrs. Baillie kindly pressed me to stay; but as I had 
fixed to dine at Mrs. Barbauld's that day, I declined. She 
then insisted upon sending me in her carriage, and Mrs. 
Joanna Baillie was so good as to accompany me. Mrs. Bar- 
bauld received me most kindly, and I have passed with her 
a week of a most quiet and gratifying kind of enjoyment. 
The dreadful fear I had of Mrs. Joanna Baillie, the hopeless- 
ness of pleasing her, gave a feeling of constraint which I 
hoped I had got over, but which, whenever I saw her com- 
posed figure enter the room, returned with painful force ; yet 
I have seldom seen any human being that excites stronger 
feelings of respect; and there is something so extraordinary 
in the union of such excellent poetic genius and such simpUc- 
ity, and even, plainness of manner, that your attention is con- 
stantly alive to every word she utters, hoping you may hear 
some poetical or elevated sentiment. She is one illustration 
of Miss Benger's theory about complicated characters ; there 
is so much left to the imagination, you must feel great interest. 
But, to return to Mrs. Barbauld: there is in her so much indul- 
gence for the fancies and even follies of youth, that in one 
■week I feel more at ease in her society, and more attached to 
her, than I could be to Mrs. Joanna Baillie in years. En- 
thusiasm has not departed from the character of Mrs. Bar- 
bauld, but has left such deep traces, that you find many of her 
feelings and opinions still tinged with its magic. In Mrs. 
Joanna Baillie that glowing, elevating sentiment has dwelt in 
such impervious depths, and pursued such secret paths, that 
the passing eye might think her uninfluenced by its spells. 

" Miss Aikin seemed very happy to see me. We meet almost 
every day. Dr. and Mrs. Brunton dined here on Friday, and 
were pleased with their visit to Mrs. Barbauld, and Mrs. B. 
liked them. 

" Owen came on Sunday and dined with us. You would see 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 351 

his Bill had gone through the second reading; but it cannot 
pass this session. Mrs. Barbauld thinks him visionary, but he 
had not sufficient time to unfold all his ideas, and then he will 
beat anybody (papa would say) by exhausting their patience. 

" Maggie tells me our dear Mrs. Millar is with you. How 
delightful that will be for you! I imagine you wandering up 
to the burn this beautiful day, or some other pleasant place. 
Dearest mamma, pray do not venture to ride the stupid starting 
pony. I tremble whenever I think of the escape you had last 
summer, even with your trusty squire Angus by your side. Is 
darling Molly very busy with some little plan of her own? 
Now let me answer your questions. I was pi'esent at the 
'Family Legend,' and was much discomposed to see it so ill 
acted — very inferior to the Edinburgh representation. Mrs. 
Barclay looked ill, and acted worse. As it was a benefit night, 
no disapprobation was shown, and Mrs. J. Baillie, who was 
present, was so good-natured as to be pleased. Lord Byron, 
who is now one of the Directors of Drury Lane, wishes to 
bring on the stage another of her plays, I believe ' De Mont- 
fort^.'"' He thinks it would be better adapted for the stage 
were she to give some stronger motive for the hatred of De 
Montford against Rezenvelt. In reading it you do not per- 
ceive the want of this, considering the proud, irritable charac- 
ter of De Montfoi'd, but the spectators, particularly in the 
galleries, require some evident insult or cause of resentment." 

At the Miss Baillies' house, Grace met Lord and Lady 
Byron during the one year of their union. She admired the 
sweetness of Lady Byron's looks, and the unaffectedness of her 
manners, while she was struck by the gloom of Lord Byron's 
fine but melancholy countenance. 

She had great delight in the pictures she saw in London 
and in Mr. Angerstein's collection, she studied them with the 
eye of an artist and the taste of an amateur, but she knew no 
other rules of judging than those which her own pure taste 
prescribed. Murillo was decidedly her favorite. His pictures 
had, she thought, more of poetry as well as nature, in them 
than those of any other artists she saw. 

Grace was much urged by Mrs. Barbauld to prolong her 



352 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

visit at Newington : but her uncle and annt having fixed to set 
off for Scotland in the beginning of July, she hastened down 
to join them, and arrived with them at Park Hall on the 9th 
of July, 1815. This was a happy meeting with her family, 
from whom she had been separated for eight months. She had 
much to tell of all she had seen and felt, and she used to say 
that her London life had been so crowded with gratifications 
that she enjoyed it more on recollection than at the time; but 
what she most delighted to remember was the kindness she 
met with from persons whose genius and virtue gave them the 
highest rank in her estimate of human character. She had too 
much feeling and too much imagination to be at ease in the 
presence of such persons as Mrs. Barbauld and Joanna Baillie. 
Their genuine modesty made her feel, as she expressed it, a 
sort of self-annihilation; but this feeling of reverence for what 
is really great and good so much resembles the sublimity of 
devotional feeling, that it is delightful to minds such as hers. 

From liOndon and all its wonderful varieties she returned 
more fond than ever of her home and home society. The 
summer was passed chiefly at Park Hall, from which s'nC r.nd 
Margaret made an excursion to see the Lakes of Monteith and 
the Trossachs, and their impression of this beautiful scenery is 
still preserved in a letter which I received from them while on 
a visit at Mr. and Mrs. Taylor's house at Bourtree Hill, in 
Ayrshire. 

During this summer Grace began a picture of her mother and 
youngest sister, which was finished during the ensuing winter in 
Edinburgh, to which place all the family returned in November. 

In the course of this winter Grace was present at the per- 
formance of the Oratorio of the " Messiah," the first musical 
festival ever held in Edinburgh, and she was deeply touched 
by the sublime and affecting music of Handel, sung by Marconi 
and Braham, especially by the words sung with peculiar expres- 
sion and simplicity by Madame Marconi — "He was despised 
and rejected of men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with 
grief." Grace had never before felt the power of music in its 
highest degree. She had a very sweet and expressive voice, and 
had her musical taste been earlier cultivated, I think she might 
have excelled in that accomplishment as much as in painting. 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 353 

She saw her httle niece, Ehzabeth Taylor, for the first time, 
this winter, and this new object of affection excited the most 
tender interest in her heart. 

Aboiit the same time she formed an intimate acquaintance 
with Miss Wilkes, a most agreeable American lady, the niece 
of Monsieur Simond ; and during the whole of this winter 
Grace enjoyed the pleasures of Edinburgh society with an 
animation peculiar to herself, for it was not in crowds that she 
delighted ; hers was not that exterior gaiety which requires 
strong excitement, and which often hides an aching heart, it 
was the gaiety of intelligence, benevolence, and peace. At 
Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton's she was always a welcome and 
cherished visitor ; but it was at home that her cheerfulness 
diffused itself most sweetly. 

The loss of our excellent friend, Mrs. E. Hamilton, ^ who died 
at Harrowgate on the 23d of July, affected Grace extremely. 
Many were the happy hours which she had passed in her 
delightful society. Mrs. Hamilton had early discovered her 
uncommon character, and had honored her with distinguished 
regard. During this summer she amused herself with painting. 
She improved and completed the pictures of her mother and 
youngest sister, painted the year before, and enjoyed much 
some parts of Yorkshire, and its beautiful villages, with those 
feelings of benevolence -^hich delight in witnessing the comforts 
of the poor. 

On the 7th of October, 1816, Grace, with her mother and 
her brother Angus, left her kind aunt and youngest sister to 
return to Edinburgh. They paid several pleasant visits on the 
way in the county of Durham ; spent some days with Lady 
Williamson, at Whitburn Hall, and Mrs. Millar, who then Uved 
near that place, and reached home on the 19th of October, 1816. 
She said on that day she had never enjoyed a journey so much. 
As the carriage drove up the Canongate of Edinburgh, while 
the clock of the Tron Church was striking eight, she exclaimed, 
" Oh! how rejoiced I am to see once more ' mine ain romantic 
town.' " 

Before the return of the rest of the family from Park Hall 
she urged me strongly to form a resolution against engaging in 

1 Author of " Cottagers of Glenbumie," and " Life of Agrippina." 
w 



354 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

the turmoil of large parties, either at home or abroad, during 
the winter. She suggested that her father's delicate state of 
health made it jDroper to abstain from these engagements, and 
that the enjoyment they afforded was quite inadequate to the 
expense, trouble, and vexation in which they involved us. 
"Let us avoid crowds," she said, "and enjoy society." Her 
sister Margaret heartily agreed with her in this request ; and 
on one occasion, when a too great facility had made me yield 
to the request of a lady to join an evening party at her house, 
Grace brought me a pen, and, putting it into my hand, entreated 
me to retract my engagement and keep firm to my resolution 
of avoiding evening parties. Thus did her firmness, prudence, 
and discretion establish a regulation in the family highly favor- 
able in every respect to its comfort, ease, and real enjoyment. 
But while she avoided crowds, she enjoyed the real pleasures 
of society with a zest and vivacity more than usual. It seemed 
as if she had a presentiment that she had not long to live, and 
that the last months of her life should be as ful] of usefulness 
and rational enjoyment as possible. If I could mention any 
period of her life in which a deeper feeling of habitual piety 
seemed to influence her whole conduct, it was this winter. 
She had always possessed devotional feelings and a firm belief 
in the truths of Christianity ; but those peculiar views, which 
are in the best sense of the word evangelical, seemed now to be 
gaining on her mind. They were strengthened by her intimacy 
with Mrs. Brunton, and while they served to form a habit of 
practical piety, they did not narrow her mind, nor limit her 
charity and toleration for the religious opinions of those 
who differed from her. The duties of humanity were never 
neglected, nor were they ever suffered to interfere with the 
duties of home. Three or four days of every week she and 
her sister Margaret attended the House of Industry, or the 
Lancasterian School, but from these she always returned home 
before two o'clock, to accompany her mother if she chose to 
go out. 

During this winter our family became acquainted with Mrs. 
Wilson (the widow of Theobald Wolfe Tone), whose character 
and fate interested Grace in an uncommon degree. She 
admired her talents, and loved her for the noble-mindedness 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 355 

and generous enthusiasm of her character. They became 
friends, and she offered to paint a picture of young Tone from 
a portrait of him which his mother had, and which had been 
injured in the carriage. The desire of gratifying this devoted 
mother was an object which she had much at heart, and the 
painting of young Tone's picture excited her extremely. She 
succeeded well in finishing it, but an accident occurred in the 
varnishing of the picture which destroyed her ,whole labor. 
Instead of being disconcerted by this, she said, after mentioning 
the accident to me, " Don't mind, dear mamma ; I hope I shall 
be able to do a better." She began another, but did not live 
to finish it. She likewise left an unfinished likeness of her 
father. The mornings that were not devoted to the superin- 
tendence of the House of Industry w-ere employed in reading 
and painting. The evenings were given to domestic society, 
■where she diffused a cheerfulness and sweetness to which no 
description can do justice. 

In one of their visits in the month of March this year (1817) 
to the House of Industry, Grace and Margaret met a crowd 
in the Canongate, occasioned by the screams of a child of seven 
years old, which a woman was leading to the Charity Workhouse. 
They followed the woman, and learned that she had reared the 
deserted orphan from infancy, but that the time was now come 
■when the managers of the poor had thought fit to take it from 
her, according to the general rule, and place it in the Charity 
Workhouse. The child, however, had repeatedly run home to 
her kind old friend, and neither threats, punishments, nor 
bribes, could detain her in the workhouse. The pertinacious 
fondness of this child for her nurse interested the two sisters ; 
they followed her to the workhouse, and, by strong recommenda- 
tions of kindness to the matron, and by promises of reward to 
the child, and by gaining for her permission to pay a weekly 
visit to the nurse, they hoped to reconcile her to her fate ; but 
in this they were disappointed : they found she had again 
escaped the vigilance of the matron, that sh^ refused food, and 
that, even when reduced to great debility by typhus fever, she 
had gone, in the midst of a stormy night, to her nurse's door 
and begged to be admitted. The sensibility and affectionate- 
ness of this unfortunate child touched Grace's heart ; she left 



356 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

no exertion untried to obtain her removal from the workhouse, 
and by the influence of her excellent friends, Dr. and Mrs. 
Brunton, she had the comfort of seeing her placed as a town 
pensioner in the house of the nurse she had loved so dearly. 
Whether or not it was in visiting this poor child that our 
beloved Grace caught the fever of which she died, God only 
knows. She was about her Divine Master's business — she was 
walking in His steps and doing His commandments. When 
could she have been fitter to appear in the presence of her 
Father and her God ? The activity and universality of her 
benevolence could only be equalled bj the disinterestedness, 
gentleness, and sweetness of her temper. 

On the Sunday before she was taken ill, she walked out for 
some time with me and her sister Margaret ; and speaking of 
the past winter, she said — "When have we passed so happy 
and so undisturbed a winter ? This has been owing to its 
quietness." She used to speak much and tenderly of her 
absent sisters and her excellent aunt, and delighted herself 
with the playfulness of her little niece, Elizabeth Taylor, who 
was our inmate this winter. 

The first thing Grace did every morning was to visit the 
nursery and bring the child in her arms to my bedroom. The 
child reposed on her tenderness, and always showed her marked 
preference. Her affection for this engaging infant seemed to 
afford her great increase of happiness. 

On the Monday before her illness began she accompanied me 
to dine with Mrs. Craik. She entered warmly into an argu- 
ment against negro slavery, and supported her views on that 
subject ably and eloquently, in opposition to a gentleman who 
had lately returned from the West Indies. 

On the morning of the day following. (Tuesday) she accom- 
panied me to the House of Industry, and visited her little orphan 
protegee at the house of her nurse, and in the evening she went 
to see Kemble act " Hamlet," the last time he performed that 
character in Edinburgh. I never saw her enjoy anything with 
more animation. Her taste in acting was exquisite. 

On Wednesday she employed herself in painting the second 
picture of young Tone, and in the evening accompanied me 
and her sister to Mrs. Brunton's. She was in excellent spirits, 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 357 

and she at all times enjoyed Mrs. Brunton's society ex- 
tremely. 

On Thursday, after spending some hours at the picture of 
her father, she went out to dispose of tickets for a benefit con- 
cert for Miss Derby, a deserving young woman who had been 
recommended to us by some English friends, and expressed 
a wish to go herself to the concert, having never, she said, at- 
tended one in Edinburgh before. In the evening we were at 
home, and quite alone, and Grace read to us most beautifully 
some of the finest passages from Young's " Night Thoughts." 
Her voice, in I'eading, was touching and expressive, and her 
taste correct and elegant. 

On Friday evening she accompanied me and a small party of 
friends to Miss Derby's concert, and returned in high spirits 
and much pleased with the evening's performance, for though 
her taste for music had been little cultivated, she felt its power 
strongly. 

On Saturday she accompanied her father and Mrs. Wilson on 
a little drive to the country, and, on coming home, reminded 
me of some visits which we had reproached ourselves with not 
having paid. On these visits she accompanied me, and after- 
wards enjoyed the society of a few friends at dinner, and of 
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson in the evening. It was remarked by Dr. 
Anderson, who was one of the party, that he never saw Grace 
more animated, intelligent, ^nd pleasing. At night, after the 
party had left us, she read aloud Southey's " Wat Tyler " (then 
newly published), which-^was interrupted by much mirth and 
laughter. 

On the following morning (Sunday) she rose earlier than the 
rest of the family, and, after breakfast, went with Miss Wright 
(a friend of mine lately arrived from the country) to hear Mr. 
Grey preach at a small chapel in the Old Town. When 
Margaret and I returned from our attendance at the Episcopal 
Chapel, we found her in the drawing-room. She complained 
of headache and weariness, and said the heat of the small and 
crowded, place of worship she had been in had made her feel 
faint, and that now she felt cold and disposed to shivering. I 
recommended her to lie down in bed, but she said she hoped to 
be better after dinner. She went down to dinner with us, and 



358 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 

took tea in the drawing-room, but retired early. Next day she 
kept her bed, still complaining of headache; and at night, on 
rising for a little while to have her bed made, she fainted. I 
sent immediately for our family doctor, Mr. Turner, but, in 
spite of the remedies he applied, she became every day more 
hot, restless, and uneasy, especially during the night. 

On Friday morning she sent for me, and said, " Oh, mamma, 
I have had a dreadful night, but I think I could sleep in your 
arms." I laid myself down beside her. She said, " Let us 
pray;" and she slowly and distinctly repeated the Lord's 
Prayer. She then laid her head on my breast, and seemed to 
sleep quietly for a few minutes. On raising her head again, 
she said, " Dearest mother, I have had my first sleep where I 
bad my first food." Soon afterwards there was an increase of 
heat and headache, which was not removed by the application 
of more leeches to the temples. During the whole of the day 
(Friday) her restlessness and anxiety increased, and towards 
night high delirium came on. 

The symptoms of typhus fever (for such it was now declared 
to be) kept increasing all Saturday. During the continuance 
of the delirium she constantly entreated to be taken home, and 
anxiously asked, " Why she was suffered to lie in the streets; 
why she was not suffered to go home." And once when I 
told her she was at home, at that dear home where she had 
spent so many happy evenings, she looked earnestly in my face, 
and pressing my hand, said, " Dearest mother, you know how 
I dote upon those evenings." 

On Monday morning the pulse fell considerably, and the 
blister seemed to have had good effect. Her feverish delirium 
subsided. She appeared all that day in a state of stupor, with 
low mutterings. 

On Tuesday Dr. Thomson thought her decidedly better. 
On that night, when I was sitting by her bedside, she said — 
" Bring a candle, and let the light shine full on mamma's face, 
that I may see her." When the candle was brought, she 
fixed her eyes on me with an expression of tender earnestness 
for a few minutes, as if to search my thoughts, or, perhaps, to 
look her last. At this time she seemed not to recognize any 
of the rest who attended her; but whenever I approached her 



MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 359 

bed she stretched out her arms, and once she said — " Dearest 
mother, if I should die, I do not suifer excessive pain." 

On Wednesday she appeared worse than the day before, and 
Dr. Gregory was called. He did not conceal from me that 
the danger was extreme. He ordered wine in considerable 
quantity to support her. For three days it appeared to agree 
with her well, and there was no increase of any dangerous 
symptom. After the first sleep procured by an opiate, she 
said — "Oh, how inexpressibly happy do I feel!" Never, 
amid the wanderings of delirium, did a word escape her that 
was at variance with the piety and purity of her whole life. 
Once she clasped her hands, as if in an attitude of prayer, and 
said, " Give us, Lord, the spirit of love, that we may delight 
to do Thy will, and of discernment, that — that," and she 
seemed to lose all recollection, and again relapsed into mutter- 
ing delirium. 

On Sunday and Monday, the 13th and 14th of April, the 
headache and depression increased. On Tuesday she seemed 
easier, and our hopes revived. That evening, however, as I 
was sitting by her bedside, the stomach rejected the wine 
given. The next day this symptom increased. All hope was 
now over. She passed a day of great suffering from sickness, 
and there was no interruption to the delirium ; but her voice 
was strong, and I was not aware that all would so soon be 
over. " Mamma, mamma,", were the last words she uttered. 

She died on Wednesday night, at ten o'clock, April 16th, 
1817. Dr. Thomson, \^ose kindness on that occasion can 
never be forgotten by us, remained with us for four hours, and 
did liot leave us till she had breathed her last. 

Never was there such tender, dutiful, fond, and respectful 
affection as her whole short life exemplified. Thankful to God 
for having given me such a child, and still for sparing me so 
many blessings in those that remain, may we be enabled so to 
live that, when time shall be no more, we may be reunited to 
her in a blessed immortahty. 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER, 

ADVOCATE. 

WITH A SKETCH OF THE POLITICAL STATE OF FEELING 
IN EDINBURGH FROM 1791 TO 1815. 

BY HIS WIDOW. 



Character given of Archibald Fletcher, Esq., hy Lord Cockburn, 
in his "Life of Lord Jeffrey," vol. i. p. 90. 

" A pure and firm patriot. Throughout all the changes 
that occurred in his long life, he was the same, — never neglect- 
ing any opportunity of resisting oppression, in whatever quarter 
of the globe it might be practised or threatened, ashamed of 
no romance of public virtue, — always ready to lead, but, from 
modesty, much readier to follow, his Whig party in every con- 
flict of principle, — and all with perfect candor and immovable 
moderation. 

" He was almost the father, and was certainly the most per- 
severing champion, of burgh reform in Scotland, But indeed 
his whole life, devoted as it was to the promotion of every 
scheme calculated to diffu'se knowledge and to advance liberty 
in every region of the world, was applied with especial zeal and 
steadiness to the elevation of his native country." 



" BiLToN Cottage, near Rugby, May'2\st, 1829. 
"My dear GiiANDCHiLDREN, — You wcre all so young 
•when you lost your excellent grandfather that I have thought 
it right to give you a short account of him, both for your 
satisfaction and improvement. I might have made this 
Memoir of his useful and honorable life much longer, yet my 
object being to interest and impress your hearts with veneration 
for his memory rather than to give a minute detail of the 
narrative of his life, I hope you will accept it, imperfect as it 
16 



302 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

is, with my prayers, that it may please God that you may all 
so live as to be worthy representatives of him, both in his 
public and private life. — I am, dear children, your affectionate 
grandmother, Eliza Fletcher." 

Archibald Fletcher was born at Pooble, in Glenlyon, in 
Perthshire, in the year 1746. His father, Angus Fletcher, was 
a younger brother of Archibald Fletcher, Esq. , of Bernice and 
Dunans, in Argyllshire: and their ancestors were, according to 
the tradition of the country, the first who had raised smoke or 
boiled water on the braes of Glenorchy. 

In that wild and mountainous district the Fletchers had 
been a numerous and warlike clan for many centuries ; and 
near to Loch Auchalader there may still be seen the mossy 
cairns where the bones of the fierce Macdonalds and M'lnlais- 
ters were interred, after a deadly feud fought near that spot 
many hundred years ago, on account of some disputed ground 
which each clan claimed as their' rightful inheritance. The 
patronymic of M'lnlaister, translated from the Gaelic, signifies 
"Man of the Arrow." Whether the Fletchers were of old 
celebrated for making, or for using, arrows is uncertain ; but 
the Stewarts of Appin, a very powerful clan in feudal times, 
found the M'Inlaisters such useful allies in battle that they 
formed a treaty of alliance with them in the fourteenth century, 
and bound themselves to espouse the interests of their clan in 
all their hostile encounters, on condition of receiving their help 
in times of need. 

Angus Fletcher was twice married. He had four children 
by his first marriage. Archibald, your grandfather, was the 
eldest son by his second wife, Grace M'Naughton. She was a 
woman of most noble nature, affectionate dispositions, strong 
sense, and fervent piety. She lost her husband when her six 
children were very young. It may be supposed that the 
property of a Highland tacksman, eighty years ago, would 
not be considerable when divided between a widow and ten 
children. But their mother, notwithstanding her second mar- 
riage, proved so faithful a guardian of their little property, 
that she was enabled to give her sons the education of 
gentlemen. Archibald used to delight in the recollections of 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 363 

his Highland boyhood. His favorite sport was spearing 
sahxion by torchlight ; and often, with his httle troop of 
brothers, housed to leap from a height into a peat moss breast- 
high, and then spring into a mountain stream to wade and 
splash amidst the torrent. I never could discover that he had 
any taste for pastoral life ; it was too inanimate and tranquil 
for his ai-dent temperament. He used, when quite a boy, to 
delight in hstening to the tales and songs of wandering bards 
who frequented his mother's farm, but these were tales of 
battles ; and he well remembered his joyful anticipations when 
any of the family were to be newly clothed, because the 
itinerant tailor of Glenlyon had a vast store of Ossianic lore, 
and Archibald used to sit by his side the day through, 
hstening to the poems of Ossian, and the tales of ghosts and 
fairies. His imagination, however, was not so much capti- 
vated by the marvellous as his moral taste was elevated by the 
sublime. He delighted, even then, in the generosity and 
magnanimity of Fingal and his heroic times, and never to the 
last hour of his life could he read or hear of a noble action 
without being moved to tears. This high toue of feeling, 
fostered no doubt by the legends of the tailor bard, was likewise 
cultivated by his mother's habitual piety and unworldly turn of 
mind. She was profoundly acquainted with her Bible, and she 
made its pure and holy precepts the guide of her life. Her 
dwelling was at least ten miles from the parish church, and on 
the Sabbath afternoon many of the neighboring cottars who were 
unable to walk so far, assembled on a hill-side in summer, or in 
a shiehng near her house, and there, seated in the midst of them, 
she read to them from her English Bible, translating into Gaelic 
the parables of the Saviour, or the prophetic portions of the Old 
Testament, or the patriarchal histories so well suited to interest 
her shepherd clansmen. 

There was then no translation of the Bible into the Gaelic 
tongue ; it was to these poor Highlanders a sealed book. Mrs. 
M'Diarmid exercised the office of a home missionary among 
her neighbors from a principle of pure love to Go*d, and from 
an earnest desire to do them good, neither arrogating any 
merit nor expecting any reward. This gratuitous exercise of 
the holiest charity had its reward however in the affection and 



864 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

respect of her little flock, who had such confidence in her 
judgment and kindness that they consulted her in all their 
difficulties. Nothing could exceed the harmony that prevailed 
in her numerous family, and the impartiality of her conduct 
towards her own children and those of her first and second 
husbands. 

Archibald's first separation from this excellent mother was 
■when he went to the Grammar School at Kenmore, in 
Bi-eadalbane. He was then about ten years old, and there he 
began to learn English and Latin (irannnar at the same time, 
and soon distinguished him.sell.' as an aspiring and industrious 
scholar. lie was removed at thirteen to the High School of 
Perth, where his academical ardor was still more excited by 
keener competition. Being one morning too late in making 
his api^earance at school, his master degraded him to the 
bottom of the class as a punishment ; his heart was hot with 
indignation at this supposed injustice, but restraining the 
expression of his feelings, in a few minutes afterwards, by a 
fortunate superiority in scholarship, he regained his place at 
the top of the class. The boys cheered him very loudly, and 
then, giving way to the passionate expression of mingled feel- 
ings, he burst into tears. From that moment, he used to say he 
dated his devotion to popular feelings and his hatred of injustice. 

As Archibald's small patrimony was nearly exhausted by 
the expense of his education, and his inclination led him to 
prefer the profession of the Law, he was placed at sixteen in 
the office of Mr. Grant, a writer in Edinburgh, and from that 
time was wholly dependent on his own exertions. Mr. Grant 
formed so high an oi)inion of his worth and talents that he 
appointed him by will sole executor in trust for his affairs, and 
reeonunended him as confidential clerk to the then Lord 
Advocate, Sir James Montgomery. Sir James had too just an 
estimation of his merits to allow him to continue long in a 
subordinate capacity. He became his zealous friend, and 
recommended him to Mr. Wilson of Howden, with whom, after 
serving a regular apjtrenticeship, he became an active and 
eflicient partner. He took advantage of the good libraries 
and good society of Edinburgh to cultivate his mind and 
improve his taste. It was during this period of his laborious 



MEMOIR OF ARCinBALD FT^KTCUER. 365 

profession;il life, when assiduous attention to his duties rec- 
oniinended liirn to every one in whose eniployinent he was 
enga<^ed, that for several years he used to rise at four o'clock 
in the morning to study Greek; and he found time, when the 
labors of the day had concluded, to attend literary and debating 
societies, iind exercised his jien in the composition of various 
ingenious essays, chiefly on nietaiihysical and literary subjects. 
He attended at this time the lectures of Professor Adam 
Fergusson, who so ably filled the Moral l'hiloso[)hy chair in tlie 
University of Edinburgh, and while attending that class became 
acquainted with Mr. Dugald Stewart, in whose deservedly high 
reputation he afterwards always took the most cordial interest. 

It was about the year 1778 that the regiment of M'Cra 
Highlanders mutinied and refused to emliaik ;i,t Ijcith for 
America. They nuiintained that they had been enlist(;d for 
home service only, and that (jrovernment had broken faith with 
them in proposing to send them abroad. These furious muti- 
neers posted themselves on Arthur's Seat, ami obstinately re- 
fused to obey the orders of their commanding oflicers. In this 
alarming emergency, Mr. Archibald Fletcher was chosen to 
negotiate with them. His perfect acquaintance with the Erse 
language, and his high rc'putation for talents and integrity, quali- 
fied him for this dillicult and delicate medi'ation, and entithul him 
to the confidence of both parties. He was suffered to approach 
the mutineers with a flag oif truce. Not one of them could 
speak a word of Englisji^while many of their officers were 
equally ignorant of Erse. This negotiation lasted several days 
before Mr. Fletcher was able to reconcile the claims of the 
opposite parties. He did, however, prevail on the mutineers 
to lay down their arms, and the Government agreed to accept 
their limited services to Ireland, from which they were after- 
wards drafted into other volunteer corps to serve in America 
during the war. 

On the exjiiration of his apprenticeship, Mr. Fletcher entered 
into partnership with Mr. W ilaon, and became a member of 
the Society of Writers to the Signet. About tliis time the 
Faculty of Advocates attempted to establish a regulation that 
no man above twenty-seven years of age should become a mem- 



36o MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

ber of their body. Mr. Fletcher wrote a very able pamphlet 
on the subject, addressed to the Society of Writers to the 
Signet, exposing the illiberality of this regulation, and ascribed 
it to an aristocratical spirit of exclusion, alike injurious to the' 
aspirations of young men of talent and to the interests of the 
Scottish Bar, which oiight to be open to all candidates qualified 
by education and character for that honorable profession. This 
essay obtained for the author the thanks of the Society of 
Writers to the Signet. The irony and sound argument it con- 
tained bore so severely against the exclusionists in the Faculty 
of Advocates, that they withdrew the proposed regulation, and 
never afterwards attempted to enforce it. The liberality of 
principle and eloquence of composition which distinguished this 
publication obtained for ]\Ir. Fletcher the friendship of the 
Honorable Henry Erskine, whose high birth and gifted under- 
standing alike made him averse to adopt the vulgar distinctions 
that the exclusionists aimed at. From that time Mr. Erskine, 
then holding the first rank at the Scottish Bar, honored Mr. 
Fletcher with his most cordial friendship. Soon after this 
pamphlet had attained its object, Mr. Fletcher published an 
" Essay on Church Patronage," a subject at that time warmly 
contested in the General Assembly. He took the popular 
side of the question, and demonstrated by the most conclusive 
reasoning that the choice of the minister of each parish ought, 
according to the laws of the Church, to be vested in the 
parishioners who were members of the Church of Scotland. 
He exposed the servility of spirit which the present system of 
Church-patronage produced, showing that it converted the 
servant of God and the faithful pastor of His flock (which 
a Christian minister should be) into a tima-serving and worldly- 
minded dependant on the favor of the great. He proved 
also that the exercise of their rights in the choice of their 
religious teachers would accustom the people to reflection, and 
raise them in their own esteem, and thus prepare them for 
a due estimation of all the civil and political rights that be- 
longed to them as a nation of free men. The " Essay on 
Patronage " was written in a feai'less spirit, and with great 
vigor and elegance of style, and the argument was enforced by 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 367 

the happiest illustrations to prove the benefits of freedom, both 
civil and religious. 

About this time Mr. Fletcher was one of the founders of the 
Juridical Society and a constituent member of the Highland 
Society. To the business of both he devoted much of his 
leisure time. 

It was during the American War that his attention was first 
directed to Politics, and he then acquainted himself extensively 
with the history of nations, and the manner in which different 
forms of government had influenced the human character. From 
that period political science was his favorite object ; I might 
almost say it became his passion ; for he perceived that there 
was no effectual means of improving the condition of mankind 
but by a wise and just government. He hailed the establish- 
ment of American Independence as one of those great events 
that serve to teach practical wisdom and moderation to old 
Governments, and as an experiment of Republican principles 
under circumstances much more favorable to their development 
than the ancient Republics had enjoyed. 

From that time Mr. Fletcher became an ardent admirer of 
Mr. Fox ; but his love of liberty did not confine itself to abstract 
speculation. In the year 1784 he became a member of a Society 
the object of which was to inquire into and reform the abuses of 
the Scottish burghs, the close system of a self-elected and irre- 
sponsible magistracy which prevailed then being, as he conceived, 
the root and hotbed of all^political delinquency, as it separates 
the interests of the governors from those of the governed and 
indulges the selfish and corrupt principles of mankind at the ex- 
pense of the public good. To the object of Scottish burgh 
reform Mr. Fletcher for some time, in a great degree, concen- 
trated his exertions', and his gratuitous laboi's in that cause 
were for several years intense and unremitting. He was chosen 
Secretary to the Edinburgh Society of Burgh Reform, and 
opened an active and extensive correspondence with the Liberal 
promoters of that measure in every burgh in Scotland. The 
delegates from these burghs met annually in Edinburgh ; and 
after their secretary had collected a vast mass of evidence 
proving the corruption of the system and the monstrous dbuses 
to which it led, he was desired to draw " The Principles of the 



368 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

Bill for Burgh Reform in Scotland " to be submitted to Par- 
liament. 

In February, 1787, Mr. Fletcher, accompanied by some other 
gentlemen, was sent to London as delegate from the Scottish 
burghs. It was then he became personally acquainted with Mr. 
Fox and the other distinguished leaders of the Whig party. 
Mr. Fox expressed his decided approbation of the views of the 
Scottish burgh reformers, but lamented that he should not have 
leisure that session to do justice to their cause. He recom- 
mended the delegates to wait on Mr. Sheridan and commit their 
important business to him. They did so. Mr. Sheridan readily 
undertook to be their champion, and at an early period of the 
session obtained a Committee of the House of Commons to in- 
quire into the grievances. Mr. Fletcher was in daily attendance 
on this Committee, and from what he then saw of the leading 
Whigs, both in public and private society, he was convinced of 
the integrity of their public principles, as well as delighted \vith 
their candor and freedom from the bitterness of party spirit. 
In no society did he ever hear the talents and merits of Mr. Pitt 
more justly valued than in that of his rival statesmen. 

It was while on his way to London, in 1787, with a mind in- 
tensely occupied by the subject of this mission, that Mr. Fletcher 
first met the lady who became his wife in 1791. It might be 
supposed that having hved a bachelor above forty years, and 
■with a character formed by long habits of professional life, as 
well as a mind directed to political and abstract speculation, Mr. 
Fletcher might have had little indulgence for one whose age and 
pursuits were so different from his own ; but the contrary was 
remarkably the case. He was in the best sense of the word a most 
indulgent husband. He liberally admitted his wife to a participa- 
tion of his intellectual stores, and exalted her aims by cultivating 
her sympathy in his own extensive views and elevated purposes. 

In the years that followed, from 1791 to 1800, we expe- 
rienced much of that strong excitement which the early period 
of the French Revolution produced. Mr. Fletcher hailed the 
first dawn of liberty in France as the harbinger of good not only 
to that country but to the whole of Europe. He deprecated 
all foreign interference in the political aifairs of a nation that 
struggled constitutionally to be free. He heartily co-operated 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 369 

■with the Whig party in Edinburgh, and attended every anniver- 
sary of the fall of the Bastile since the glorious day on which it 
fell, the 14th July, 1789. 

He took a deep interest in the deliberations of the Constituent 
Assembly, and admired the abstract principles of the Gironde 
party, while he condemned their want of vigor in not punishing 
the authors of that bloody day (the 10th of August, 1792), and 
the still bloodier which followed on the 1st and 2d of Septem- 
ber ; for while he deeply cherished the principles of rational 
liberty, he heartily deploi'ed the excesses committed in its name. 

Mr. Fletcher attributed the power and mischievous influence 
of the Jacobin faction in France in great measure to the foreign 
interference which had been directed against the proceedings 
of the Constituent Assembly. The coalition of crowned heads 
encouraged the hopes of the Court faction and the anti-Revolu- 
tionists, while the violent party among the Republicans became 
alarmed by the threats of the Duke of Brunswick and the flight 
of the King after he had solemnly sworn to be faithful to the 
nation and the law. These circumstances combined to excite 
the public mind to a state of political distrust and delirium, of 
which bad men took advantage ; hence the Jacobins attained an 
ascendancy over the moderate and enlightened Girondists, and 
" The Reign of Terror " succeeded to that of law and justice. 

"These opinions, which Mr. Fletcher declared on all occasions, 
were so hostile to those of the political faction which at that 
time governed Scotland, that his pecuniary interests as a barris- 
ter were considerably affected by them ; for such was the servil- 
ity of the public mind at that time, that it was not considered 
safe to trust a Whig lawyer with the management of a case, 
from the supposed prejudices of the Judges against their holding 
those opinions. Mr. Fletcher always maintained that this was 
an unfounded slander on the Scotch Judges, and that however 
much in some instances they might have recommended them- 
selves to seats on the Bench by political servility, he never knew 
them violate the integrity of justice from political prejudices 
against any member of the Bar. Certain it is, however, that 
the Whig lawyers at that time were comparatively briefless, 
and that agents were instructed not to employ their own brother 
if they chanced to be opposed to the Minister of the day. 

16* X 



370 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

Although conscious that it would have made no difference in 
my husband's line of conduct at this time, when we were often 
reduced to our last guinea in " our Reign of Terror," it was my 
happiness to delight in the uncompromising principles on which 
he acted ; and he has often said to me that the support he de- 
rived from my sympathy in these trying times was most consol- 
atory to his mind. 

Although Mr. Fletcher declined to become a member of the 
British Convention, from his disapprobation of Universal Suf- 
frage and Annual Parliaments which they advocated, and from 
a conviction that such claims would increase the alarm among 
the higher orders, and therefore strengthen Mr. Pitt's adminis- 
tration, he never shrank from being the professional advocate 
of those unfortunate and misguided men who suffered for such 
intemperate opinions. He acted gratuitously as counsel for 
Joseph Gerald, and others, accused of sedition; and when party 
spirit was at its height of intolerance, and the Honorable Henry' 
Erskine was deprived of the Deanship of the Faculty of Advo- 
cates by a vote of the majority of that body, in 1796, on account 
of being present at a meeting the object of which was to oppose 
what were called the " Gagging "Bills," Mr. Fletcher was one of 
the courageous thirty-eight who formed the minority of the 
Faculty of Advocates on that occasion. 

At this time he took an active part, as a member of the 
Edinburgh Committee, for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, 
and never lost sight of the business of the Society for the Im- 
provement of the Highlands. His labors in the cause of Burgh 
Reform were suspended owing to the alarm for what were 
called " French principles," which operated unfavorably on all 
questions of reform ; and Parliamentary Keform, once Mr. 
Pitt's favorite measure, was now included in the cry against 
all dangerous innovations. 

While party feelings divided friends, and even members of 
the same family from each other, Mr. Fletcher continued to hold 
so high a place for personal integrity, his patriotism was so much 
without pretension, and his conduct so wholly free from the im- 
putation of sinister motives of any kind, that, though he suf- 
fered professionally from the political panic of the times, he never 
had a personal enemy, and he began to find his professional 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 371 

emoluments gradually increasing. His law-papers were consid- 
ered iQodels, both in perspicuity of style and acuteness of rea- 
soning; whatever he did was done with the zeal and energy of 
an upright purpose, and perhaps there never existed in any 
mind more of the capacity of submission to the drudgery of 
labor in the performance of professional duty united to inde- 
pendence of spirit and unpretending dignity of character. 

Almost the only part of Mr. Pitt's administration which Mr. 
Fletcher heartily approved was the Irish Union; and he gave 
that statesman great credit for retiring from office when he 
could not redeem the pledge he had given for Catholic emanci- 
pation. For that great measure my husband was a zea]f)us and 
uncompromising advocate, identified, as he considered it to be, 
with the traiuiuillity and safety of the whole British Empire, 
and no less an act of policy than of justice. 

He rejoiced in the formation of a Whig administration in 
1806, and was, perhaps, one of the most disinterested men of 
his party in that feeling, for he had formed no ambitious expec- 
tations of promotion. 

The death of Mr. Fox, which happened in September, 1806, 
■was an event Mr. Fletcher deplored, in common with every 
friend of constitutional liberty. He had early admired that 
great statesman for his vigorous opposition to the American 
War, and still more for his consistent and manly resistance to 
all interference in the internal affairs of France at the begin- 
ning of the Revolution. lU was one of the fourteen gentle- 
men who met to celebrttte'Mr. Fox's birthday on the 'ilth of 
January, 1797, after his name had been erased from his Majesty's 
Privy Council for his determined opposition to the French War. 
This little meeting was composed of courageous spirits, for it 
was known at the time that the names of the fourteen assem- 
bled on that occasion were sent to Government as dangerous 
and disloyal subjects. Mr. Fletcher rejoiced, however, that 
Fox had been in oiTice long enough to accomplish the object 
nearest his heart, — the abolition of the African Slave Trade; 
though his honest endeavors to obtain honorable terms of peace 
with France were frustrated by the arrogant and unreasonable 
demands of Napoleon lUionaparte. 

Mr. Fletcher was at this time so indignant at the tone of 



372 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

defiance and threatened invasion assumed by France, that he 
thought it was every man's duty to arm in defence of national 
honor. With this feeling he entered as an ensign in the High- 
land corps of volunteers. His soldierly accoutrements were a 
subject of much amusement to his family and friends. His 
quiet manners, and studious, sedentary habits, accorded ill with 
the pomp and circumstance of regimental duty, but he set about 
the acquirement of a military step and deportment with as 
much zeal and earnestness as if the defence of the country had 
depended on his individual exertions ; and at a mock battle at 
Leith, when it was assigned to that part of the Highland corps 
to wjiich he was attached to fall back for a time before an in- 
vading enemy, he declared with characteristic simplicity, that 
"he never could command Highlanders to retreat, and that, 
if he did, he hoped they would disobey him." He quitted his 
law-papers at the hour of drill without showing the least annoy- 
ance at such interruptions, for as his old friend Lord Buchaa 
observed, " Fletcher buckles on his sword in the spirit of a 
civic soldier." 

In the enjoyment of perfect domestic happiness, and in con- 
sideration for the welfare and comfort of every member of his 
family, he never was surpassed by any one. His children can. 
never forget his quiet sympathy in all their pleasures, his 
anxiety that they should enjoy every advantage of liberal edu- 
cation, his tenderness towards them when they were sick, and 
the great indulgence and reasonableness of his habitual con- 
duct towards them. To his servants he was the most kind and 
indulgent of masters, and to the poor and afflicted his nature 
was so compassionate that he would have divided with them his 
last shilling. 

One instance of Mr. Fletcher's compassionate disposition is 
well remembered in his family. A miserable female culprit 
had been detected in the act of steahng from his premises, and 
in the absence of their master and mistress his servants had 
secured her until the police were summoned to take her before 
a magistrate. Mr. Fletcher, on coming home, would not inter- 
fere with the course of justice, but going quietly to the place 
where she was in custody he gave her a loaf of bread, saying, 
" Take that, poor woman ; you look hungry ; I dare say it waa 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 373 

that that made you steal." He was ever ready to be the poor 
man's advocate, and used to thmk his time well employed when 
he could professionally assist the indigent or oppressed with his 
advice and exertions. 

The unjust aggressions of the French Government in Spain 
made him rejoice in the assistance rendered to that nation by 
the British Government in 1808. He took a strong interest 
in the Peninsular War, because he considered the cause of Spain 
to be just, and he hailed the peace so dearly purchased in 1814, 
as it secured the fall of that military despotism which Napoleon 
had established on the ruins of the French Republic. 

The violation of the Charter by Louis XVHL, and the en- 
thusiasm with which the army and the people of France received 
their exiled Emperor on his return from Elba, gave rise to 
mingled feelings of hope and apprehension. Of hope, that the 
Chamber of Deputies would so limit the power of Napoleon 
that not his will but the law on which he had dared to trample 
should thenceforward govern France; and of apprehension, that 
Napoleon was not of a character, any more than the Bourbons, 
to profit by the misfortunes he had experienced. The hundred 
days justified these apprehensions, and France, notwithstanding 
her apparent devotion to this " spoiled child of victory," had 
now so little confidence in his justice or invincibility that in- 
stead of the four hundred thousand that had followed him to 
Moscow in pursuit of glory, scarcely one hundred thousand could 
be found to rally round him on the plains of Waterloo, when 
nothing less than national independence was at stake. 

The battle of Waterloo was so proud a day for Great Britain 
that Mr. Fletcher rejoiced in it with true patriotic feeling; but 
he did not rejoice without trembling, lest that confederacy of 
armed powers which prevailed over the fortunes of one military 
despot should forget what was due to France and to the rest of 
Europe. The formation of the Holy Alliance confirmed these 
fears. That league of Kings, allied for the express purpose of 
perpetuating the abuses of old governments and repressing the 
spirit of civil and religious liberty whenever it should appear, 
enhsted among its adherents the Government of England. Mr. 
Fletcher deprecated this union as the most disgraceful that 
England could have formed. From this coalition, and not from 



374 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

the spirit of its own laws and institutions, he attributed the 
harsh and ungenerous treatment of our fallen enemy Napoleon 
Buonaparte, whose sufferings at St. Helena ought, in his opin- 
ion, to have been made as little severe as was consistent with 
the peace and safety of Europe. 

In the spring of 1816 infirm health obliged Mr. Fletcher to 
retire from the Bar, just when the emoluments of his practice 
began to reward the diligence of his professional life. So long 
as health permitted he never complained of the fatigue of labor; 
he loved his profession and delighted in the energetic exercise 
of his mental faculties, but when obliged to relinquish it, he did 
so without a nmrmur, and retired during the summer months 
to his farm in Stirlingshire, where some additions had been 
made to the house. The employment of planting, draining, 
and improving the soil supplied to his active mind a substitute 
for professional employment. 

In the spring of 1817 Mr. Fletcher had the misfortune to lose 
his second daughter; this was the first great blow to his domes- 
tic happiness. She was in her twenty-first year, and had all the 
gracious and endearing qualities that a highly gifted under- 
standing and a most affectionate disposition could bestow. He 
followed her remains to the grave, a true mourner, and never af- 
terwards could mention her name without the tendei'est emotion. 

After Mr. Fletcher ceased to be able to superintend his 
farming concerns with pleasure to him, it v?as thought best 
to part with the property in Stirlingshire ; and in the spring 
of 1821- he took a lease of Auchindinny House and grounds, 
on the banks of the Esk, and there his family had the comfort 
of seeing him enjoy a serene and healthy old age. Reading, 
conversation with his family, and benevolent projects, were his 
chief pleasures. He was uniformly cheerful and contented, and 
his interest in public affairs continued unabated. Till within a 
short time of his death his eyesight was so good that he could 
read without glasses. Here I could recount his many touching 
expressions of gratitude to God for the blessing of our union, 
for our happiness in each other and in our children, but 
these are sacred subjects. He delighted in the playfulness of 
his grandcliildren, and loved to see them all about him. He 
was confined by his last illness only a few weeks to bed, and 



MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 37o 

those who faithfully attended him can testify how patiently he 
bore the wearisome days and nights of increasing debility, and 
how considerate he was of others. He had no acute bodily suf- 
fering, and his mind was in a composed and heavenly frame, for 
thankfulness seemed to be his habitual state of feeling. He 
died at half-past two o'clock in the morning of the 20th Decem- 
ber, 1828. 

His remains were attended to the grave by many faithful 
friends. He was interred in the family burial-ground, on the 
Calton Hill, on Wednesday, the 24th of December, 1828. 

Sacreb 

TO THE MEMORY OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER, ADVOCATE. 

HE DEVOTED THE ENEEGT 

OF A VIGOROUS, BENEVOLENT, AND DISINTERESTED SPIRIT 

TO THE CAUSE OP CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. 

He died December 20th, 1828, 
Aged 82. 

Sacuti also t0 tfie iEemorg of fits ©augfjter, 

GRACE FLETCHER, 
Who died the 16th op April, 1817, 
, ) Aged 20. 

BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART, 
FOR THEY SHALL SEE GOD. 

Extract from Lord Brougham's Introduction on Burgh Reform, 
relating to Archibald Fletcher's exertions in that cause, in 
the Collected Edition of his Speeches. 

"To both the state of its parliamentary and its municipal 
constitution the attention of Scotland had, at different times 
during a long course of years, been directed by some very able, 
virtuous, and patriotic persons whose labors were unremitting 
for the removal of the abuses thus pointed out and traced to 
their source, and who, in the time of alarm that followed the 



S76 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 

earlier scenes of the French Revolution, were fated to see the 
fruit of their labors blighted long before it was ripe. Among 
these eminent patriots the first place is due to Archibald 
Fletcher, a learned, experienced, and industrious lawyer, one 
of the most upright men that ever adorned the profession, and 
a man of such stern and resolute firmness in public principle as 
is very rarely found united with the amiable character which en- 
deared him to private society. Devoted from his earliest youth 
to the cause of civil liberty, his mind had become deeply imbued 
with a sense of the corruption which had crept into our consti- 
tution and disfigured its original excellence. His zeal for the 
maintenance of these principles, and his anxiety for the reno- 
vatioii of British liberty, wei-e, if possible, still further excited 
by the matrimonial union which he entered into with a lady 
of Whig family in Yorkshire (one of the most accomplished 
of her sex, who, with the utmost purity of life that can dignify 
and enhance female charms, combined the inflexible principles 
and deep political feeling of a Hutchinson or a Roland) ; and he 
devoted to the great work of reforming the Scottish elective 
system, both as regarded its parliamentaiy and municipal 
branches, every hour which could be spared from the claims of 
his clients. The proceedings in the Convention of Royal 
Burghs, the bills introduced by the Crown lawyers for reform- 
ing the scheme of their accounting, the motions for Scotch 
reform made by Mr. Sheridan, were all intimately connected 
with his unremitting and most useful labors, nor could any- 
thing but the alarm raised by the deplorable turn of French 
affairs have prevented some important measures, at least of 
Burgh Reform, from being adopted nearly fifty years ago. Al- 
though his life was protracted to the extreme period of the life 
of man, he was not perniitted to see the triumph of the cause to 
which he had been devoted, and for which his latest prayers 
were offered." 



Cambridge : Press of Jolin Wilson and Son. 



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